Cazador
by Nemo the Unknown
Summary: In which Courier Six winds up in Brockton Bay, and proceeds to do his thing, to the aggravation of many.
1. Chapter 1

_The legend of Courier Six; the Wildcard, the Slayer of Caesar, and the King of New Vegas, is as long and storied as Long Dick Johnson's eponymous appendage. He who rose from the grave in the sleepy town of Goodsprings, and proceeded to trek miles across the deadly Mojave Wasteland, all to return the bullet of a certain checker-suited fuck named Benny in his own suite, the man unaware of his impending fate until a ten millimeter bullet introduced itself to the back of his head._

 _Any rumours to the contrary; for instance that the Courier may have been forced to trek back across the desert and into the den of Caesar's Legion all because he stumbled into the aforementioned checker-suited fuck's line of sight after tripping over the carpet and falling down the stairs are patently false. The perpetuators of said rumors are to be dragged out into the alleys of Freeside and shot, by order of the King of New Vegas._

 _Finally, having retrieved the Platinum Chip, the Courier returned triumphant to New Vegas, and presented his prize to its rightful owner: Robert House, (Former) CEO of RobCo, (Former) King of New Vegas, and (Former) Smartest Man Alive._

 _The Courier then proceeded to beat Mr. House to death for being a smarmy asshole, and usurped control of the securitron army, and thus Vegas itself, for his own, with the help of a friendly, if somewhat neurotic, hacked securitron._

 _Thus the pair set out on their journey, to fend off foes from both the West and East alongside a motley crew of companions, and to liberate both New Vegas and Hoover Dam in the name of the common man and of freedom. But this is not that story. Nor is it one of the Courier's many other stories, such as the time he got trapped in a pre-war casino inside a toxic cloud with a bunch of psychopaths, the time he got trapped in a pre-war research facility full of psychopaths (and robots), or the time he willingly travelled into a nuclear scorched hellscape of a pre-war city to meet one particular psychopath. No, this is not any of those stories. Rather, this is a tale of a man ripped from his home and everything he recognizes, and dropped into a land quite the opposite; one of superheroes and villains, rather than Bears and Bulls._

 _A land of metropolitan decay, rather than radioactive decay._

 _This story, like many others, begins with a locker. In that locker is a girl, trapped and traumatized by someone she once called friend, for reasons she cannot comprehend. This girl finds herself embroiled in a war she doesn't understand, and never asked for._

 _But few ever desire war, for war never changes._

 _Not really._

 _And where there is war,_ _ **Ç̶͓͓ͥ́͋̊ḧ̴̙̪͕̯͍̎̊͑͢ͅǎ̞͖͎̗̃̄o̯̻͋̃̊̈́̌̈̊̇ś͕̻̹̠͌̀**_ _will surely follow._

* * *

Taylor awoke to the beeping of heart monitors, her vision blurry as her eyes adjusted to the artificial lighting of her room. Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position, scanning what she recognized as a hospital room. Her attention was drawn to the only other person in the room, a figure currently occupied with rummaging through the cabinets lining the wall. He had a trench coat with heavy looking armor strapped over it, and when he turned around, Taylor's heart nearly froze at blood-red gaze that stared back at her, burning with something one might describe as idle fury. They stood there a moment; she, frozen in fear, and he, motionless, as if sizing her up. Taylor instinctively started to curl up in a protective ball. Then, whatever light gave the helmet that eerie red glow flicked off, and where once stood the physical embodiment of death, come to take her soul to the fires of hell, there now stood an ordinary, if somewhat imposing man in a dusty set of combat armor.

"You're awake," He finally said, "Someone should probably call the doctor or whoever, yeah?" With that, he returned to pawing through the cabinets.

' _A cape.'_ Was Taylor's first thought. The second was _'Why would a Cape take me to a hospital?'_

Then the memory of the locker slammed into her, and she curled into a ball, shivering.

 _God._ She had been in there for hours. No one had helped her, not the students, not the staff, and certainly not the trio. It had taken a _literal superhero_ to show up for someone to actually do something.

"You alright there, kid?"

Taylor turned back to the cape that had saved her, who was now fully focused on her.

"You're shaking like a leaf there. You want some Med-X or something for that?" He seemed to have abandoned his search of the cupboards in favor of digging through his jacket now, muttering to himself. "I had, like, a million fuckin' doses of that stuff in here somewhere…"

Finally, he seemed to give up, shrugging indifferently.

"Eh. They'd probably just yell at me some more. I mean seriously, I try to do nice things, and what do I get?" He looked at her, as if she knew the answer. "Everyone yelling at me! _'Oh, Six, you can't just stab someone with a stimpak and call it done!'_ They say. As if I don't do that a dozen times a day. I know real doctors who barely do more than that, and yet suddenly *I'm* the asshole, not to mention 'dangerously unstable' and 'a menace to society'! In the _Wasteland_ of all places! Can you believe that?"

Taylor just tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, hiding under the sheets, hoping that somebody would escort the possible escaped mental ward patient out of her room. It was with great (silent) rejoicing on her part that a nurse entered the room moments later.

"Mister… _Courier_ ," She began, tentatively, "Perhaps you could wait outside? You wouldn't want to distress Miss Hebert here, would you?"

The Cape, _Courier_ or _Six_ or whatever his name was, dropped his arms to his sides. Slowly, he stumbled out of the hospital room, occasionally lurching to one side.

 _Was he drunk?_

Taylor didn't have time to consider the stranger's actions, as her father quickly took the focus of her attention.

"Taylor! Oh my god, you're alright!"

Danny Hebert, her father, practically sprinted to her side, eyes still red rimmed. A doctor followed behind him, much more sedately as he looked through whatever files decorated his clipboard with a confused expression.

"Well, Miss Hebert…" He said slowly, "The good news is that you appear to be perfectly healthy."

Taylor and her father both gaped at the man in disbelief.

"You're telling me," Danny started, "My daughter was locked in a pile of filth for _hours_ , and you can't find anything wrong? At all?"

"Believe me, Mister Hebert, we're as shocked as you are. We've run just about every test we could, and we couldn't find a single thing." The doctor shrugged. "Hell, if I hadn't seen the state she was in when she arrived, I'd have said she was faking it. We can't find a scrape on her."

The room was uncomfortably silent for a moment, the three of them simply staring at each other, Danny and Taylor in awe and disbelief, and the doctor in a sort of resigned bemusement.

"...Do- Do you have any idea how this happened?" Danny finally mumbled.

"Well, the man who brought Miss Hebert in, a Mister… _Six,_ I believe he calls himself, mentioned injecting her with something he called a _'Stim Pack'._ " The doctor replied, flipping through his clipboard, "I have no idea what a 'Stim Pack' is, but given his… _appearance_ , I think it's a fair guess that it's some sort of Tinkertech device that he used to heal her injuries. We just don't know how much it actually did, so we're going to have Panacea give you a once over before we let you out, to make sure there's no nasty side effects."

Taylor nodded dumbly, her thoughts drifting back to the stranger. He had found her locked in that _filth_ , broken her out, healed her wounds, and even _carried_ her all the way to the hospital from Winslow. Granted, she didn't exactly weigh a _ton_ , but still. Taylor made a mental promise to thank him when she saw him again. He had done more for her in one day than just about everyone else she knew, combined, in the past few months.

And then the screaming started.

* * *

Amy Dallon trudged through the halls of Brockton Bay General for the hundredth time that day. There was always another broken bone to mend, another car accident to work through, another victim of gang violence riddled with bullets to patch up. It was a monotone of blood and bone, and she had long ago grown bored of it. At least this next case was _different_. Fifteen year-old girl came in looking like she had been swimming in biohazardous waste, and yet no one could find anything wrong with her.

Her pessimistic side told her it was probably another new cape, another Brute to patch up every time they overestimated their abilities, just like Aegis, but a small part of her was interested. The urgency of the request told her that there was something strange going on, beyond the usual explanation of 'Cape Stuff'. Her questions were answered when she saw the cape standing outside the girl's room. The one who currently had a lit cigarette sticking through an opening in the helmet he wore.

"This is a hospital, you know," She grumbled, walking up to him, "So would you _kindly_ refrain from smoking here?"

"What, is this one of those _fancy_ hospitals where the doctors all crawl up your ass about stuff like _sterile environments_ and _endangering their patients?"_ The man snipped back, taking another drag from his cigarette before crushing it beneath his boot. "Back in the Mojave, the doctors make do with a bottle of whiskey and whatever tools they can scavenge. Don't charge nearly as much for it, either…"

Amy felt her eye twitch at the cape's blatant disregard for basic health and safety rules. Then she heard the snickering.

"Pff… Heh, the look on your face…" The cape wiped a nonexistent tear from the optics of his helmet, before holding out his hand. "I'm Six. Courier Six."

Reluctantly, Amy grabbed his gloved hand, giving it a light shake.

"Amy Dallon," She said dryly, "So, what are you doing in this hospital, _Courier Six_?"

"Found some kid that got locked in a metal box fulla shit." He grunted, leaning back in his chair. "Gave her a stimpak and brought her here, then the doc asked me to wait around till someone named 'Panacea' could come around and tell me what I already knew, that the kid's fine, and they're very sorry for wasting my time. Then the lady came in and very politely asked me to keep anyone from distressing the girl, so now I'm playing guard duty." At that, he reached into his jacket to pull out a bottle of whiskey, pulled the top off and started chugging it straight from the bottle.

"Really?" Amy snorted, "They asked you to guard her room?"

"Well, the exact words were _*I* wouldn't want to distress her,_ but I got the message. No one gets in or out."

Amy only understood about half of what the man had just said, but it was enough to give her an idea of why they had called her up. Powers that could heal were notoriously rare. A lot of so-called healers ended up realizing that their amazing healing powers were really just a side effect of some other horrific ability. Usually by killing the person they were healing.

"So what about you, kid?" He grunted. "I'm guessing you're one of the Followers, based on that getup you got."

"The Followers?" Amy asked, patting at the crosses on her costume absentmindedly. "Followers of what?"

"The Followers of the Apocalypse. Y'know, 'helping other people just because it's the right thing to do'? Good people. _For the most part_." Amy didn't catch that last part, already lost in thought as she tried to remember a cape team that called themselves the _Followers_. _of the Apocalypse_. Despite the fact that they had a name that wouldn't sound out of place as a sect of the Fallen, Courier Six made it sound like a heroic team, though not one she had ever heard of.

"Oh." She finally said. "Are you a member?"

"...Sorta?" Six replied, waving his hand back and forth in a 'so-so' motion, his drink sloshing in its bottle. "Julie offered me a spot after I helped them out a bunch, but I'm not really great with the whole 'scientific research' thing. I was really just trying to, y'know, 'be a good person' and all, trying to make up for some… not so great things I did.

" _Not so great things?"_ Amy asked, laying on the snark. "Like what, smoking in hospitals?"

"Oh, you know…" Six muttered. _"Things…"_

* * *

 _The Courier let out a manic, howling laugh, falling to his knees as he watched the two mushroom clouds rise from either end of the Mojave. He had done it. House was dead, and now both the Bull and the Bear faced a slow death by starvation. The final pieces were moving into place for his grand scheme. People would call for his head, try to usurp him the same way he did House, sure, but they'd have to kill him first. Of course, he couldn't die. The Sierra Madre couldn't do it, Big MT couldn't do it, not even the fucking Divide could do it. The Courier isn't done until he says he is, and he still had a battle to win and a Dam to conquer._

* * *

"But I ain't like that now, anyway."

Amy let out a faint laugh, sitting beside Courier Six. He seemed like a decent guy, all things considered. Had a weird sense of humor, but oh well.

"You know, you did a good thing helping that girl." Amy finally said, turning to Six. "If you'd like, I suppose I could offer you a free healing, just this once."

"Shit, seriously?" His head whipped around so fast Amy thought he might break it. "Can you cure addictions too? I think I accidentally got myself hooked on Jet a few days back. Maybe Med-X too..."

"I could flush your system out, yes…" Amy agreed hesitantly. Maybe offering free healing wasn't the best idea, but she couldn't back out now.

"Oh hell yes, let's do it then."

They both sat silently, staring at each other.

"...Are you going to just sit there?" Amy asked, sighing. "I need skin-to-skin contact for this."

"Oh! Oh… It's _that_ kind of healing."

Amy rolled her eyes. _And, there goes the other shoe. Yes, super-powered healing. Honestly, not to sound too egotistical, but who hasn't heard of Panacea by this point?"_

"...Sorry kid, but you're not really my type."

 _What._

"What? No! Not like that! God, get your head out of the damn gutter!" Amy grabbed at his arm, pulling off his glove. "Just-"

Amy froze, the complete biology of Courier Six crashing into her mind. All she knew was what her power told her, and her power told her that the man- No, the _Thing_ sitting next to her had neither a heart, nor a spine, nor a brain; at least, not as such. He had so much artificial Tinkertech stuffed into him that her power seemed to be having trouble with whether to even call him a living thing.

Amy stumbled back, sickened, at the kind of cruelty that Courier Six must have endured, to end up so horribly disfigured. She couldn't begin to imagine the kind of pain he must be feeling.

"Hey… You alright kid?"

She realized that he had stood up, and was crouched over her. She tried to say something, but one question repeated over and over in her mind.

"Wh-" She gulped, her body shaking in sympathetic agony. "Where… Where's your brain?"

"My brain?" He cocked his head. "Oh! Yeah, hold on."

Amy watched in mute horror as he dug around in his jacket, slowly pulling out a sealed glass jar, one that contained, unmistakably, a human brain.

And then she started screaming

* * *

 **Man, anyone check that new Fallout reveal from Bethesda? I couldn't have timed this more perfectly if I tried. There really isn't nearly enough quality Fallout: New Vegas content out there, especially when "Enough" basically means "a bottomless supply" in this situation.**

 **Anyway, I wanted to write a fic for Worm at some point or another, and I also wanted to write something for New Vegas, and so here we are. Dunno if I'll try making this a whole big thing. We'll see I guess. Just glad I finally got my ass to sit down in a chair and write again.**

 **Interestingly, my original idea for this had Joshua Graham in place of Courier Six, because I really liked the idea of how the various characters of Worm would view and interact with him, but I couldn't really figure out a way to form a cohesive plot around the parts in between the good stuff that followed what I think Joshua Graham would do, so I put Courier Six instead.**


	2. Chapter 2

When Danny burst into the hallway at the sound of screaming, the sight he was greeted with was not the one he was expecting. He found Panacea collapsed on the floor, the "Courier" who saved his daughter crouched over her. The doctor, following him out of the room, immediately sprinted to her side, dropping to his knees and taking her pulse.

"She's hyperventilating," He turned to the approaching nurse, "I need a sedative, now!"

As the nurse scurried off, the Courier reached into his jacket, rummaging around.

"I think I should have something like that in here somewhere… Med-X? Nah, that won't work. Buffout? No, that probably won't work either… Jet? No, that'll _definitely_ make things worse…" As he spoke, several different syringes and bottles dropped from his coat, clattering across the floor.

Danny picked up one, with the words "Buffout" printed across the side in bold green print. He cautiously set the bottle back down. Whatever Buffout was, and whatever it did, he probably didn't want to know. Looking back at Panacea, the girl seemed to be doing slightly better, having recovered enough to wave of the doctor, coughing heavily.

"I'm… I'm alright," She panted, "Just… Got taken by surprise, is all." When Six offered her his hand, she recoiled, scooting back.

"Please, don't touch me again." Even in his helmet and heavy gear, the man managed to give off an expression of bemusement. "I- Sorry, I just… God, how are you alive right now?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "I seem to have a habit of not dying, though, and I can't say I'm eager to end it any time soon."

"Right." Pushing herself to her feet, Panacea waved off the doctor urging her to rest. "I'm… I'm fine. I can keep going."

She shambled into Taylor's hospital room, her skin still a little clammy. Danny noticed how she seemed to lean heavily on Taylor's bed, reaching her hand out towards Taylor.

"Do I have your permission to heal you?" Taylor nodded yes, and the two touched hands, Panacea's eyes clenched in concentration. "Hm. The doctors were right, I can't find anything really wrong with you. In fact, your whole immune system looks like it's been boosted. I probably couldn't do much better myself." The girl sounded more confused than anything. "Although… Hm."

"Is there anything wrong?" Danny finally asked, walking to Taylor's bedside.

"Not wrong, per se," Panacea muttered, "More… Strange, really. There seem to be a few spots of unusual cell density, like some sort of proto-cancer…"

"Is it dangerous?" Danny clutched Taylor's other hand.

"No, it seems completely benign. I doubt it would have posed any danger, but I cleared it up anyway." Panacea opened her eyes, standing up a little straighter. "Taylor Hebert, I hereby pronounce you completely healthy. Have a good day."

With that, she began to trudge out of the room, leaving a bewildered, if slightly concerned father and daughter alone in the quiet room.

"You feeling alright, kiddo?" Danny finally asked.

"I… I think so, dad. I don't think I've really had a chance to process everything, with that other cape that brought me in. Whatever his name is."

"I think he said it was Courier Six. You want to go say hi?"

"Mhm." Taylor nodded, pulling off the sheets as she swung her body over the edge, her feet hitting the floor. "I want to thank him. For helping me."

"Me too, kiddo." Danny whispered, kneeling down as he pulled his daughter into a hug. "Taylor, I… I'm sorry. I haven't been doing my job as your father, or I would've been able to help you…"

"Dad…" Taylor started, but he went on.

"No. Taylor, while you were asleep, I thought about what I've done these past couple years, since Annette died. Or rather, what I should have done. I should've been doing more, and I failed you because of it. But I promise, Taylor, starting today, I'm going to do better. I promise."

Taylor pulled back, looking him in the eyes. He saw a lot of doubt written on her face, which stung, but he also saw just the barest hint of a smile, of a hope that he could begin to fix his mistakes. And that was enough.

Giving Taylor his shoulder to lean on, the two of them walked out of the room and down the hall to meet the Courier in the hospital lobby.

They found him sitting quietly, reading from a leatherbound book, which he closed and slipped into his jacket as they approached.

"Mister, ah… Six, my name's Danny. Danny Hebert. I wanted to thank you for saving my daughter."

"Oh, yeah, it was no problem. I was in the area anyway…"

"Well, still, I'd like to pay you back if I can. I don't really have much to offer in the way of money, but I can at least offer you dinner, if you'd like to join us."

"I... Appreciate the offer," The Courier finally said, after a long silence. "But I think I'm gonna have to pass. I got places I need to be, y'know?"

Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out what looked like one of those electric plasma balls, if you attached a pistol grip and an antenna to it. In short, it couldn't have more obviously been

Tinkertech if it tried. Taylor lurched forward, towards the stranger that had saved her life and was about to disappear from whence he came.

"Wait!" She nearly shouted, drawing more than a couple stares. "I… I just wanted to say thanks."

Taylor's voice quieted to a near whisper, months of instincts honed to best avoid getting the attention of others kicking in at just the wrong time. "Thanks for saving me, Courier Six."

The man was silent for a long moment, his head tilted slightly to one side.

"...Sure. No problem, _niña._ " The words came out quietly, almost dreamily, before he shook his head, bringing one hand to his temple. "Damn, now I sound like Raul. Anyway, maybe I'll see you 'round, kid."

And with that, he pulled the trigger of the device.

And stood there.

And waited.

"Huh… Not _usually_ supposed to do that…" He muttered, pulling the trigger a few more times and cursing. Finally, he slid the device back into his coat, clapping his hands together. "So! What was that you were saying about dinner?"

* * *

Taylor spent a lot of the ride home zoned out, focusing on what could only be her cape powers. After all, what other explanation could there be for being able to control insects?

She had managed to control a handful of flies into the truck with her as her dad tried to engage Six in conversation. Emphasis on _tried,_ though not from lack of response on Six's part. He just didn't really have anything to say, and his knowledge of current events was… _lacking_ , to say the least. By his own admission, he only occasionally even tuned in to the radio. Everything else was hearsay. He seemed to have an unusually high opinion of Brockton _"Cape battles level a city block every other week"_ Bay though, based on his comments.

"I gotta say," Six whistled, looking out the window of the truck at the buildings passing by, "You guys got this town fixed up pretty nice, all things considered."

"Well," Danny chuckled, "The Dockworker's Union tries its best to fix things back up whenever the city hires us, but there's only so much we can do…" His voice drifted off into melancholy.

"Well, no one's perfect, but still!" Six's face was pressed right up against the window, if his helmet was any indication. "This place's downright homey compared to some of the towns I've passed through. Makes Freeside look like a real shithole, and they at least had the Kings."

"Freeside? Don't think I've ever heard of that town before. Where is it?"

"Just outside of Vegas. In the Mojave." Six said absentmindedly. Danny whistled.

"That's a long ways away from here. What brings you so far from Nevada?"

"Oh… Stuff." Six peeled his head from the window. "Speaking of, where are we? I've been a lot of places, but I've never heard of Brockton Bay."

"We're on the east coast, southern New Hampshire." Danny replied, "Boston's not that far away. Some people like to make a day trip out of it when they go."

"Boston? East Coast?" Six turned to look at Danny. "Damn, I'm gonna have to have a conversation with the Think Tank when I get back home. Not sure how the Transportalponder sent me here, but it's never gone _that_ far before..." With that, he went quiet, toying with some strange gauntlet on his wrist, occasionally grunting.

"Well, I for one," Danny finally said with a bit of false cheer, "am glad you showed up. And I'm sure Taylor is too."

Taylor nodded from the backseat, humming quietly in agreement. After that, the three of them lapsed into silence, Danny finally turning on the radio just to have something to fill it.

* * *

Sitting around the dinner table, Taylor thought about how ironic it was that she and her father were strangers to each other almost as much as the Cape sitting next to them. The Cape who was currently shoveling spaghetti and meatballs through a hole in his helmet's air filter.

"Oh man, I gotta say Danny, this stuff's amazing." Six grunted, in between gulps. "Can't believe I never thought of making something like this."

"Well, it wasn't _that_ much work…" Danny muttered bashfully. Taylor had to agree. It was canned sauce, frozen meatballs, and pasta. Not exactly five-star cuisine, but going by Six's reaction, it might've been the best thing he'd ever eaten.

" _Wonder if I could make it myself,"_ She heard Six mutter through a fly on his shoulder, _"Noodles're easy enough, maybe some thin red paste for the sauce? Sorta tastes the same, if you don't think about it too much. Meatballs, though…_ Hey Danny! What kinda meat are these meatballs made from?"

Danny gave Six a strange look.

"Pork, probably. Beef too. Why... Is that a problem?" Oh man, wouldn't that just be perfect? Try to thank the man who saved her life, only to accidentally make him commit taboo or something? Wouldn't that just be _absolutely god-damn fantastic?_

"Nah, just curious." Danny and Taylor both let out a sigh. "What the hell is a 'beef' though? Tastes kinda like Brahmin."

"You've never eaten beef?" Taylor asked incredulously. "Have you ever even _seen_ a cow?"

"No." Six answered innocently. "What, is that some sort of, like, local mutation of Brahmin?"

This was getting ridiculous. Not being up to date on the news was reasonable enough. Six gave off the whole 'rugged survivalist' vibe, so it wasn't entirely unbelievable that he didn't really pay attention to the internet or the news much, but not knowing what a goddamn _cow_ was?

"And what the hell is a Brahmin!?" Taylor nearly shouted. She didn't know if Six was playing stupid for laughs, but she, for one, was getting sick of it.

"It's like…" Six looked like he was trying to grab something with both hands. "It's red, it's got the udders, the two heads… Y'know… Brahmin." He shrugged. "I dunno what to tell you guys, but I don't know how you got all this stuff fixed up without using Brahmin or whatever. Especially since I'm not seeing any of those 'Mister Handy' bots they seemed to like so much pre-war."

Taylor shot her dad an incredulous look. He just raised an eyebrow, looking altogether out of his depth. Then the other eyebrow shot up in surprise.

"Wait, 'Pre-war'?" He held out a hand in a 'slow-down' motion. "What war?"

"The Great War. What other war would I be talking about?" Six said matter-of-factly. They stared at him blankly. He face-palmed. "Oh c'mon, I thought I was the one with amnesia. Who the hell doesn't know about the global nuclear war that killed off most of the world's population? Hello? October twenty-third, twenty-seventy-seven? Any of that ringing a bell?"

Taylor and Danny gaped at him silently.

 _Global nuclear war?_

Suddenly, she didn't feel so hungry anymore.

"I'm… Afraid I don't quite understand what war you're referring to," Danny said quietly, "You do know we're in the year two-thousand-eleven, right?"

Six seemed to freeze, the entire room silent save for the sound of spaghetti being slurped through his mask. Finally sucking the last strands up, Six looked down at his empty bowl, silent.

Straining, Taylor thought she heard him muttering something among the lines of _"-ucking cults…"_ before looking back up. The three of them; Six, Taylor, and Danny, all stared at each other in an awkward silence, only growing more awkward as the silence lengthened.

"SO!" Six slammed his hands on the table, making Taylor and Danny jump. "Let's _not_ talk about anything before about, oh, let's say… two-hundred years ago?" Six nodded to himself. "Yeah, let's go with that."

Taylor turned to look at her father incredulously.

Danny chose to avert his eyes, focusing instead on how his spaghetti and meatballs formed such interesting geometries.

Taylor looked back at Six, who was sitting completely, unnaturally still, his hands folded over his lap.

She wasn't sure if he was breathing, actually…

Maybe he dad had a point. This guy was clearly at least a little unhinged.

"So, Six..." She finally said, breaking the silence. "Where did you come up with a name like Courier Six?"

The man seemed to sag for a moment, before straightening back up.

"I'm glad you asked!" He exclaimed, strangely boisterous. "You see, it all started when I got shot in the head..."

Taylor regretted asking already.

* * *

Taylor shambled down the stairs, intent on grabbing a quick glass of water before she went to bed. She heard the washing machine running, rattling a bit under the bulk of whatever clothes Six had stuffed in there after asking about 'a place to clean up a bit'. After they found him trying to scrub a jacket (completely different from the one he was wearing, apparently) in the toilet, Danny had given him permission to use the washing machine if he needed it. Six had gleefully taken him up on the offer.

Grabbing a cup from the cupboard, Taylor moved to the sink, filling the cup with water, before turning around, muffling a shriek as she found herself face to face with Six, his helmet's optics lit up bloodred.

" _You scared the hell out of me!"_ She hissed, the hand that held her cup wavering unsteadily.

"Sorry," He muttered, creeping out the back door into the yard, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of what was likely alcohol from his jacket. Taylor watched him from the kitchen as he grabbed one of the chairs, sitting down and leaning back to look at the sky. Not that there was much to look at, with all the pollution in the air.

She wondered what he was looking for.

"I know more'n a few people that'd attack you for staring like that."

Taylor jumped at Courier Six's sudden statement. Had he really known she was watching him?

"You may as well come on out, kid."

Taylor stood in the window for a moment, finally shuffling over to the door and out into the yard. She sat down in the chair next to him, trying not to cough at the fumes from his cigarette.

"You got questions, doncha' kid?"

Taylor nodded, humming in agreement.

"Well, why don't you sit on down and ask ol' Uncle Six what you need to know." He leaned forward, that red glare of his focused on her and only slightly less intimidating given that he didn't have any reason to be pissed at her.

As far as she knew, anyway.

"Well-" She began.

"I should mention," Six interrupted, "That I'm not qualified to give relationship advice. I've never been in one long term."

"...It's not about relationships." Taylor assured.

"Alright, cool. Continue."

"So… I've-"

"I'm also not a real great person to talk to about family stuff. I have _'family'_ ," Six airquoted, "But that's more the family you find than the one you're born with."

Taylor huffed, annoyed.

"Can I actually ask you the question first?"

"Right, right. Yeah, good idea kid."

Sighing, Taylor knit her fingers together; she needed to get some sort of outside take on this.

"So, I've been dealing with… Bullies at school. The ones who shoved me in the locker you pulled me out of."

Six nodded sagely.

"I remember. Very disgusting. Do go on."

"I've tried everything I can do to stop them… Even the administration won't do a thing about it." Taylor's voice wavered, her eyes burning. "The teachers ignore it, and nobody else is willing to step in; I just… I need some way to stop them. To just… Deal with them all."

"Ah. Well, I think you just answered your own question there."

"What? What's that mean?"

"Alright, listen." Six made a 'stop' gesture. "You remember the guy who shot me in the head?"

"...Yes?" Taylor said cautiously. Six had given them a very, _very_ graphic description of his final encounter with Benny. The one where he hacked the attempted murderer into bloody ribbons with a machete.

"Do that." Six said simply.

"W-what!? No!" She almost shrieked.

"Why not? Worked for me."

"Well it's illegal, for one thing!"

"Right, the cops…" Six rubbed his chin in thought. "Yeah, you can just kill them too."

"Wha-" Taylor gaped at the man in front of her. "I can't do that! Even if I did, they'd just send more!"

Six hummed.

"Oh. Huh. Yeah, I suppose you'd run out of bullets before they ran out of troops anyway."

Taylor pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering curses.

"Alright… What if you killed them, hear me out here, _while hidden from view?"_

Six sounded rather proud of his idea. Taylor responded with a facepalm.

"I'm not going to kill them." She groaned through her hands. "Just… Forget I asked."

"Yeah, okay. Feel free to ask any other questions, kid. I'll answer them."

Standing back up, Taylor walked back inside, grumbling to herself.

Why did she think it was a good idea to ask the insane cape who thought they lived in a post-apocalyptic wasteland how to deal with this?

Oh yeah.

Because he was the only one she could trust to ask about it.

Yeesh, she had really hit a new low, hadn't she?

* * *

 **Edit: Alright, hopefully this should help with the problems I was having regarding "suspension of disbelief" and "Tonal inconsistency". Feel free to give me a heads up if there's anything I missed or didn't touch on well enough.**


	3. Chapter 3

When Taylor woke up the next morning, she trudged downstairs to find Six in the kitchen, working at the stove. Sitting down with a mix of trepidation and confusion, Taylor quietly coughed to announce her presence.

"Morning… Six." She finally said.

"Oh, hey, Mornin'." Six replied, surprisingly cheery, given his melancholy the night before. "Hope you're hungry, 'cuz I got omelettes almost ready."

Taylor raised one eyebrow, bemused, as grabbed her cup from last night and took a sip of the water still left inside. Her father, evidently, had already left for work. She very pointedly did not consider the fact that he had left her alone in their home with essentially a stranger.

"You've never seen a cow, but you know how to make omelettes?" She muttered.

"' _Course_ I know how to make an omelette," Six immediately shot back, "They're easy to make in a skillet, filling, _and_ delicious. Perfect for when you're on the trail."

Taylor froze. Six was scarily perceptive when he wanted to be. Looking over at the counter, Taylor noticed something was missing. How could Six be making Omelettes without…?

"Where are the eggs?" Taylor enquired.

"Eggs?"

"Yes, eggs. The eggs for the omelettes. The omelettes you're making right now."

"Well obviously the eggs are in the omelette now." Six pointed at the still sizzling pan.

"Yes, but what about the carton with the rest of the eggs? Where's that?"

"Deathclaw eggs don't come from cartons. They come from Deathclaws. Which I killed."

"What the hell is a Deathclaw!?" Taylor nearly shouted. Six paused, staring off into the distance in thought.

"Well, they're sorta like… lizards, I guess, except if lizards were made of hate and pain."

"And you eat them?"

"Deathclaws? No, they taste about as bad as they look." Six waved her off. "They're all tough and tendon-y. No flavor."

Taylor just sighed, exasperated, as she sagged in her chair.

"Just trust me, _Niña_ , I've tried this recipe myself. Best damn omelettes I've ever had."

Grumbling in resignation, Taylor slumped onto the table, a little sleep deprived from the "experimentation" she had done with her new powers last night.

As far as she could tell, she had complete control over any insect in her range, to the point that it felt like another limb. She could see through their eyes, though not all that well. Really, her only limit was range. That said, there were more than a few-

"Hey kid!"

With a yelp of surprise, Taylor jolted upright. Six stood in front of her, a pair of tarnished looking metal plates in either hand.

"...Omelettes are ready."

As Six set the plate in front of her, she eyed the creation warily. It was certainly large; it probably would have needed about five or six eggs if they had been from a chicken, rather than a Deathclaw, whatever the hell that was. She also noticed a strange greyish looking substance nestled in the center.

"What the hell is this stuff?" She asked, poking at the grey _stuff_ in question. Six looked up from his own half-devoured meal, grunting curiously.

"It'sh Lakelurk." He muttered through a mouthful of egg. Taylor raised an eyebrow.

"Dey're like..." He gulped, swallowing a mouthful of food. "They're, like… If a guy fucked a lizard, and the horrific mutant offspring of their relations could scream loud enough to turn your brain to a paste, that'd be a Lakelurk." Six took another bite of omelette."Dey moshtly lurk around Lake Mead, hensh the name."

Taylor looked back at the omelette again,finally shrugging in resignation. Couldn't possibly be worse than the locker, right? _Urgh._

Taking a tentative bite, Taylor hummed appreciatively at the flavor. The egg was a little richer tasting than regular chicken eggs, and the Lakelurk tasted sort of shrimp-y. All in all, it was pretty good.

"Told 'ya." Six said, the smug from his expression emanating from every hole in his stupid, beat up helmet.

"Yeah, yeah…" Taylor just did her best to ignore him as she practically inhaled her food. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, until now, but it kind of made sense, seeing as how dinner had come to a rather abrupt end soon after Six's little bombshell last night.

"So," Six finally said, after a lengthy silence, "Got any plans for the day?"

"Not really," Taylor muttered, "Maybe go to the Lord Street Market later."

Six nodded, humming appreciatively.

"Is that some kind of big important area? I could probably use a reliable merchant or two…"

"They sell all kinds of stuff there," Taylor answered, "It's pretty much the closest thing we have to a commercial district."

"Good to know. Now I just need to find someone to help with _this_ thing." Hefting the same lightning-ball-gun _thing_ he had pulled out just yesterday, Six gave the device a cursory once over. "Not that this town isn't nice or anything, but I'd like to get home as soon as I can."

"That looks like Tinkertech…" Taylor nodded in thought. "Most people probably couldn't make heads or tails of it, your best chance would probably be the PRT."

"PRT? What're they like the NCR?"

"The PRT is the Parahuman Response Team. They oversee all the Government-sponsored Capes. I know Armsmaster leads the local Cape team, he might be able to help."

"Really?" Six nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, kid. That's real helpful."

With that, Six stood up, rinsing his plate off at the sink before sticking it back in his coat. Taylor went back to enjoying her own breakfast as he went off to do… _something._ Whatever it was, it probably wasn't all that important.

" _ **QUE MIERDA!?"**_

Nearly choking on her food, Taylor sprinted over to Six, who stood motionless in front of the dryer, holding up a coat not dissimilar to his own, but without all the armored pieces and pockets.

 _What the fuck,"_ Six hissed, _"is this shit?"_

Looking closer at the coat, Taylor noticed that it looked a little... shrunken.

She let out a little snicker.

"You didn't know that clothes shrink in the wash?" She grinned.

"Why the hell would I know that?" Six howled, shaking the coat angrily. "This is why I don't wash my damn clothes! When I need to get clean, I just jump in Lake Mead!"

Taylor couldn't take it anymore, she doubled over, wheezing.

"Oh, well I'm glad _someone's_ getting some enjoyment out of this…" Six grumbled, tossing the coat on top of the dryer. "Well, that's one ruined. Ah well, I only use these ones for spare parts anyway."

Taylor, starting to recover from her wheezing fit, leaned on the doorframe.

"Alright, I guess I ought to get out of here, then." Six patted down his jacket, as if checking whether he was missing anything in that bottomless jacket of his. "You have a good day, kid."

"You too, Six." Taylor grinned, still chuckling occasionally at Six's tiny jacket.

 _It was just so damn small!_

She heard the front door open and close, and then she was alone. Dimly, it occurred to her that she hadn't told Six _where_ Lord Street Market, or the PRT headquarters were, but she dismissed it. They were two of the biggest landmarks in the city, apart from the Medhall building. Six could find his way there.

Taylor, in the meantime, had some research to do. If she was a Parahuman, then she needed to do some reading up on the local Cape scene.

(Divider)

"Hey, Puppy, you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Codenames, Assault."

Ethan let out a sigh. Faintly, he heard a chuckle of amusement over his shoulder.

"Battery, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"If you're talking about the guy in the costume walking down the street, then yes."

"Think we should do something about it?"

"I don't know…" Battery hummed in thought. "He's definitely not any villain I know of, but that getup doesn't exactly scream 'heroic'."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Assault brought a hand to his ear, opening the comm line. "Console, this is Assault. We've got a possible unknown Cape. Can't tell if he's friend or foe from here."

" _Console copies,"_ The device crackled into his ear, _"One of you is to attempt to establish friendly contact. The other is to provide backup, in case of hostile contact."_

"Assault copies, Console. Out."

Turning to his partner, Assault gave her a slight grin.

"So, you want to make first contact, or me?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, you're probably the better choice," Battery sighed, "Just… Try not to piss him off, will you?"

"Oh, methinks the lady doth complain too much," Assault cried, "Don't worry, I'm not in any mood to get hurt today. I'll play it safe."

With that, he was off, Battery hurdling the rooftops behind him. Up ahead, he saw an intersection where they could cut the newbie cape off, and hopefully secure another Parahuman's aid for the PRT.

 _And maybe give him a few pointers on costume design. Honestly, black and green? Best case scenario, he might be mistaken for some sort of PRT Spec-Ops type. Worst case, a villain._

Dropping to the ground in an alley opposite the building the Cape was walking past, Assault did his best to appear casual as he strolled up to the street corner, just in time to catch the Cape walking past, toying with some sort of bracer on his arm, muttering to himself.

"Hey there, buddy," Assault put on his best 'public relations' tone, "Need some help there?"

The Cape looked up from his bracer-thing, and _Jesus, this guy needed some serious help with costume design. Glowing red eyes? He couldn't have looked more intimidating if he tried._

"...Hey." The Cape grunted. Score one for _not_ being a villain, at least. If he was, he would've been off running the moment he saw a Protectorate hero.

"You need some help there?" Assault leaned on a nearby light pole, trying to look casual.

"Mhm." The man grunted, holding out his bracer, and Assault could see a map of the town flickering on the device's screen. "I'm looking for a place called Lord Street Market."

"Oh. Yeah, I can show you." Assault pointed to the northern area of the map. "Should be around there. I was heading in that direction myself, actually."

"Oh… Alright, thanks."

"Anything to help."

The two of them stood awkwardly for a moment.

"So…" Assault cleared his throat. "You, uh, new in town?"

"Yeah." The cape nodded. "Trying to get back home. Friend of mine said to talk to someone named _'Armsmaster'_ about this thing."

The Cape pulled out some sort device, shaped like some sort of Tinkertech laser gun, and Assault jumped back a foot.

"Whoah, whoah, buddy. You don't need to go swinging that thing around everywhere…" Assault held up his hands placatingly. The Cape just looked at him curiously.

"It's not a gun." He finally said, his voice flat.

"Oh." Assault felt kind of stupid now, though he would defend that you could never be too sure when it came to Tinkertech. Even L33t had his moments, rare as they might be. "What… Exactly is that?"

"S' called a _'Transportalponder'_ …" The Cape shrugged at Assault's questioning eyebrow.. "I didn't name it. It should be able to send me back home, but it isn't working."

Assault nodded in understanding.

"And your friend thinks that Armsmaster should be able to figure out what's wrong with it?"

"I guess. I mean, it's my best lead right now."

"Well," Assault grinned, "As it just so happens, I can help with that!"

"Shit, seriously?" The cape stood up a little straighter. "You know how to fix this thing?"

"Well… No." The cape sagged once more. "But I should be able to get you in touch with Armsmaster."

"Oh. Cool." The cape set the 'Transportalizer', or whatever it was called, in that coat of his. "Do you have, like, a radio or something?"

"I don't think Armsmaster is free right at this moment," Assault said cautiously, "But, are you free later? I'm sure I can convince him to make room in his schedule for you tomorrow…"

"Eh. I guess that'll work."

"Great!" Assault would have clapped, but he had an image to maintain. And not just the one the PR department forced him to, at that. "So, do you have a name I can tell them to look out for?"

"Yeah." The Cape held out his hand. "The name's Courier- Do you hear that?"

The cape's head instantly cocked to one side, as if listening for something. Assault, personally, couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary, until the operator sitting at the Console crackled over the line.

" _Assault, Battery, we have a reported skirmish between Empire and Merchant gang members north of you. Cape presence is suspected, but unconfirmed. You two are the closest units able to respond."_

" _Battery copies, Console. Out."_ His partner's voice answered. _"Assault, I'm going to go ahead. See if you can get our new friend's help."_

He nodded, turning back to the cape as he heard Battery charging off in the direction of the fight, vaulting rooftops as she went.

"There's a fight going on nearby; bunch of gangers shooting each other up, but there might be other Capes there too, so me and my partner are going to go break it up. You wanna join us?"

"Will there be loot?" The cape asked simply.

"What, like, money and stuff?" Assault scratched his head. "I dunno. I think PRT policy entitles you to a reward for any contraband you help recover, but I don't think-"

Assault was interrupted by a low, and frankly entirely inappropriate giggle, considering the circumstances.

" _Ohohoho, yes._ I am _absolutely_ going to join in."

And with that, the Cape was off, Assault trailing behind, but quickly closing the gap.

(Divider)

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 **Topic: New Cape in Brockton Bay?**

 **In: Boards ► Brockton Bay**

 **Gazettelect** (Original Poster)

Posted On Jan 3rd 2011:

I was in Brockton Bay General today visiting family. While we were talking, I heard screaming coming from down the hall.

When I poked my head out to see what was up, I saw this.

Anyone recognize this guy?

 **(Showing page 21 of 21)**

► **PunkUnow** (Cape Groupie)

Replied On Jan 4th 2011:

Gazettelect

I'm just saying, that guy can't be a hero with that kind of costume.

Don't you think he looks kind of like Krieg with that trenchcoat?

► **GloryGirl** (New Wave)

Replied On Jan 4th 2011:

Hey! Is that the guy that had Panacea so shaken up last night?

► **GuyHehe**

Replied On Jan 4th 2011:

GloryGirl

What do you mean?

► **GloryGirl** (New Wave)

Replied On Jan 4th 2011:

Last night, Panacea came home from the hospital earlier than usual.

She wouldn't say anything about why. She just went right to her room and went to bed.

Wouldn't even say anything about it this morning.

► **AuthenticViking** (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 4th 2011:

GloryGirl

That's definitely Panacea in the picture, but I've got no idea what he did to her.

Frankly, he just looks surprised.

► **Gazettelect** (Original Poster)

Replied On Jan 4th 2011:

Omigosh, Glory Girly actually posted in my thread!

► **GloryGirl** (New Wave)

Replied On Jan 4th 2011:

Doesn't mean he didn't hurt her.

I don't know who this guy is, but I'd like to have a little chat with him next time I see him.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **...** **19** **,** **20** **, 21**

* * *

 **Turns out leather actually does shrink when you put it through the dryer like that. Who knew?**

 **Anyway, I think I figured out how I fucked up chapter two with the flashbacks, in a more technical sense, beyond just "sticking flashbacks in wherever is bad writing". I may go back and edit that to improve it someday. I dunno. More or less done with the whole "set-up" schtick, so we can really kick it into gear soon. We're back to the comedy and action-y bits now, boys.**

 **(Also, tell me if I fucked up the PHO part. I kinda just tossed it together in that gizmo that you can find on Spacebattles, so I might have missed some important authenticity details.)**

 **Edit: Not so much an edit as an author's note as a matter of highlighting thought processes behind my writing, I suppose. This chapter was more or less alright as it was without editing. The sole exception being that PHO snippet that was blatantly crow-barred in. There's really not a lot I can do to that because I don't really have any other relevant information to add, and between the sins of "Unnecessary filler that only restates what we know" and "Short snippet that *sort of* gives relevant information, I'll take the latter. Really, all I can do is leave it in or take it out, so I decided to leave it in.**


	4. Chapter 4

When Ethan arrived at the scene of the brawl, he found a fairly typical scene for Brockton Bay: a handful of baseline gang members scattered around behind whatever cover the street afforded them, trading fire with each other and occasionally taking potshots at the capes fighting in the center. In this case, it was Mush on the Merchants' side, encased in his golem of the trash and refuse that typically littered the street, and Crusader on the Empire side, his ghosts swarming the Merchant cape, who was flailing his Golem's arms wildly, occasionally swatting ineffectually at the projections as he tried to attack Crusader directly. Staying out of sight behind the nearest building, Assault turned to the newbie cape behind him, who now wielded a massive sledgehammer he was sure hadn't been there before.

"Where'd you get that thing?" Assault asked, surprised.

"Get what thing?" The cape asked innocently, hefting said thing on to his shoulder.

"Just-... Whatever." Ethan sighed, waving the question off. Maybe this guy's power was like Miss Militia's or something. Questions could wait for later. "We've got Mush and Crusader duking it out in the middle of the streets, and normal gangers trading fire. Think you can handle the regular guys while my partner and I take care of the capes?"

"Yeah, okay." The cape said simply, and with that, he was off, his hammer held high. Watching him go, Assault signaled his partner with his headset.

"Alright, I've got the new guy taking care of the goons," He said, "That means we can focus on neutralizing Mush and Crusader."

" _Are you sure?"_ Battery's tone was concerned. _"Did he tell you he was a Brute?"_

"Well, no," Assault murmured, "But he seemed perfectly happy with doing it…"

" _And how often do new capes overestimate their powers and get hurt, or even killed for it?"_ Battery shot back. Ethan flinched. She was right, he should have at least asked the guy what his powers were, before assuming he could take on those thugs. No matter how strong he was, he was still human in the end, and one bullet could be all it took.

And then he heard an absolutely spine-chillingly wet crunch.

And then he heard screaming.

" _Holy shit."_ He heard Battery mutter over the radio. _"I take it back. Make sure he doesn't kill someone with that thing. Assuming he hasn't already."_

Assault looked back out at the battle again, and winced at what he saw.

The Merchant thugs had been all but decimated _(How the hell did he do that so fast?)_ their fallen bodies littering the ground as the cape, Courier, if Assault had heard him correctly, stood over his most recent recent victim, cackling like a madman. That sledgehammer of his that Assault was now almost certain was _also_ Tinkertech _(Where the hell did he get so much Tinkertech?)_ dripped blood, and several Merchants slumped against the walls of nearby buildings, many sporting bloodstains that suggested the men had been flung against them with serious force. _(How the hell were any of them still alive?)_

"Haha!" He heard Crusader crow. "It seems the Empire has its newest recruit!"

The Empire cape turned to Courier, one hand extended in greeting. "Join me in ridding the streets of this filth, my friend, and I'll make sure that Kaiser hears about your bravery today!"

Ethan saw Courier's body tense, frozen mid-windup with one foot planted on the chest of a merchant thug, the unlucky man screaming and trying to claw himself free.

"Hold up." Courier's head turned slowly as the remaining Merchants took their chance to beat a retreat from the slayer in their midst. "Did you just say... _Caesar?"_

"Well, it's Kai- _ser,"_ Crusader corrected, "But yes. You must have heard of him, being the warrior of the superior race that you are…"

"Oh, I've heard of him," Courier growled, turning the rest of his body to face the Empire cape and thugs, dropping his massive hammer to the asphalt beside him. "I also know I've killed _'Caesar'_ twice now."

The street went silent, every Empire ganger immediately turning on the trench-coated, sledgehammer-wielding man in front of them.

"...What did you say?" Crusader asked quietly.

"You heard me, _Bitch._ " The Courier growled, the eyes of his helmet lighting up blood-red. Ethan would have sworn he saw a demon in that moment as Courier stalked forward. "I did it twice, and I'll do it a dozen more times, until you _shitheads get the god-fucking-damned message!"_ With every word, Courier took another step forward, faster and faster until he was sprinting at the armored cape, sledge hammer cocked back over his shoulder.

" _He's going to get himself killed!"_ Battery hissed over the radio.

"Then we help him not get killed." Assault replied, already bounding forward with his power. "I'll take the thugs on the left, you get the ones on the right."

As they rushed to help, Assault saw Courier swing at one of Crusader's ghosts, the hammer passing harmlessly through the construct.

He heard Courier let out a muffled "Oh shit-" before the inertia sent him spinning, still flying forward.

Straight into another construct's spear.

Time almost seemed to slow for Ethan, watching another promising young cape fall to their own hubris. He felt a shout rising in his throat, guilt tearing at his heart as he watched the spear phase through the cape's armor, plunging right into his chest.

He slowed to a stop, a few feet away from Courier as the cape fell to his knees with a strangled 'Oof', his hammer falling to his side and one hand bracing himself on the ground as the other reached into his jacket, probably trying to cover the gaping hole the ghost had punched in his chest.

"I…" He coughed. "I…"

"Fucking…" His hand came away from his jacket, not slick with blood, Assault noticed, but holding some sort of wooden grip.

"Hate…" The weapon came free of his coat, showing itself to be some sort of rifle, like someone had bolted tinkertech to a pump shotgun, as Courier leveled it at Crusader.

"HOLOGRAMS!" Courier shouted as he pulled the trigger of the weapon, the rifle sending some sort of glowing blue projectile slamming into the Empire cape, sending the armored man to the ground and dispelling his ghosts as he was engulfed in some sort of glowing blue energy. For a second, he was still, then he began shrieking, slapping at his armor and writhing as glowing motes flaked from his body.

Assault could only stare in horror as Courier approached the screeching man, pumping the action on the rifle and readying it for another shot, adding his own shouting to the din of combat as thugs emptied their guns into him impotently.

"I had enough of these goddamn glowing bastards in the Madre! You wanna know what that hellhole's like? Huh!?"

Before Courier could pull the trigger, a bullet slammed into his head, knocking him off balance and forcing him back as Crusader tried to drag his body into cover. With the cape out of the fight, his ghosts disappeared, leaving only a handful of of Empire thugs armed with pistols and other small arms against three protectorate capes.

 _Well,_ Assault mused, _Two Protectorate capes and a heroic Rogue. Hopefully._

As he and Battery sprang into action, closing the distance with the Empire soldiers, Courier retreated slowly, ducking into an alley and firing off random shots from that shotgun-thing of his, every blast sending another bolt of roiling blue energy at the goons, who only hunkered deeper into cover. Nevertheless, fear of suffering the same fate as Crusader, who was currently curled up in an alley nearby, sobbing like a little girl, was more than enough to dissuade them from putting up any more than a paltry defense.

Jumping behind the thugs, Assault planted his fist in the face of one man, sending him falling to the ground like a sack of bricks; as he prepared to strike the next one, Ethan was interrupted by a long burst of automatic fire, the sound unlike anything PRT troops typically carried. Turning back, he saw courier laying down fire with a rifle nearly as long as he was tall. Every bullet that he saw land took a chunk of whatever it hit with it, as Ethan saw one hapless thug poke his head out, only to have everything above the jaw promptly vaporized. That was the last straw for most of the thugs, most of whom promptly surrendered at the sight. The rest met a similar fate, as anyone too stupid or bullheaded to surrender lost partial or full limbs to the onslaught of bullets. Eventually, though, the entire group found themselves vanquished, either by Courier's bullets or Assault's and Battery's fists. If they were lucky.

Once the thugs had been rounded up and a medical transport called for Crusader, Assault approached Courier. Cautiously.

"So…" He said quietly, wishing his costume had pockets so he could stick his hands in them. As it was, he settled for wringing them nervously. "Those were some… fancy weapons you had there, just now…"

"What, you mean the Holorifle?" Courier held the Tinkertech rifle by the pump, the barrel pointed at the sky, much to Assault's relief. "Yeah, I guess it is pretty nice. Packs a mean punch."

"No kidding…" Assault winced unconsciously, thinking of the man who was currently sobbing in a ball nearby, his formerly pristine armor pitted and corroded like someone had dipped the man in a vat of acid.

"Don't suppose you'd be willing to let the PRT examine that, uh, _Holorifle_ of yours, would you?"

"Not particularly, no."

Assault sighed, sagging. At least the man was a hero. More or less.

"I guess we'll see you around, sometime?"

"Yeah, alright." Courier shrugged. "And you'll get me that meeting with Armsmaster?"

Ethan flinched. He'd been hoping that the cape had forgotten about that little promise.

 _Christ. Piggot was going to have his ass for this. And then Armsmaster would do unpleasant Tinker experiments to whatever was left for throwing his schedule off._

"I- Uh… Yeah," He murmured eyeing Courier's grip on his weapon, "Sure thing…"

 _No matter what they did, he had no doubt that it didn't hold a candle to what this man could do when he was properly worked up._

* * *

Victoria Dallon grumbled, irritated, as she flew across the city, headed for Brockton Bay General to pick up her sister. Ever since she came home yesterday evening, Amy had been even more distant than usual. When Victoria had picked her up that evening, she hadn't seemed entirely… there; they had gone through their usual greetings, but Amy had been even more withdrawn than she usually was. Then, when they were flying home, she had been limp like a sack of potatoes. Not that she would admit it to anyone else, but Victoria enjoyed their little displays of sisterly affection, which made Amy's recent attitude change sting all the more.

At least now she knew the source. That new cape in town, the one in the trench coat and helmet. He had done something to Amy.

Victoria had spent all afternoon after school searching for the man, but found nothing. She wouldn't stop, though. She'd find him, and when she did, she'd make him undo whatever he'd done to her sister. Or, failing that, she'd show him what happened when people fucked with her family.

Victoria opened her eyes, slowing to a hover in mid air. Amy was always telling her how she needed to work on controlling her aura when she got emotional. The least she could do was _try_ to listen. And besides, Mom would never let her hear the end of it if she accidentally set off a wave of hysteria across the city because she had been flying too low.

No, hell hath no fury like an angry Carol Dallon.

Taking a breath to calm herself, Victoria heard shouting, followed by a gunshot, followed by a muffled grunt.

" _Ack-! Hey! Look man, I'm trying to buy here!"_

Scanning the street below her, she saw, unmistakably, the same cape that had attacked Amy yesterday with a pistol in one hand, chasing down what looked like a drug dealer. Maybe. Or maybe he was just a guy who liked to wear dirty hoodies in dingy alleyways?

Nah. Probably a drug dealer.

She felt her blood boil, and before she knew it, she was charging straight at the villain, intent on beating him to a bloody pulp for hurting her sister, not to mention whatever evil he had and/or was planning to do.

"HEY YOU!" She screamed.

" _Huh…? HRKG-!"_ The cape let out a strangled grunt as Victoria slammed into him at full speed, immediately flying the pair of them high into the air.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" She shouted into the villain's face, shaking him like a ragdoll.

"Gah! Fff- What? Who the fuck're you!?" He sputtered back.

"Who the hell do you think?" Victoria heaved him higher, gripping his coat. "What did you do to my sister!?"

The villain was quiet for a moment, his head lolling with a drunken giggle.

"I've done a lotta things… To a lotta people's sisters… You're gonna have to be more specific there…"

"My sister!" Victoria shook him again, entertaining the idea of sapping him around a couple of times, seeing how funny he thought things were then. "Last night!"

"Last night?" His head perked up a bit. "I didn't do anything last night, except… Wait, are you talking about the Followers girl?"

"Who?"

"The- the girl with the Followers of the Apocalypse symbol… thing. Y'know, white blanket thing with the red crosses 'n all? You talking about her?"

Victoria floated motionless for a moment, processing what he had just said before her eyes lit up in realization.

"Yes! Her! What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do nothin'. She's the one who touched me."

He crossed his arms, as if he had single handedly ended the conversation with that. Victoria shook him some more.

"Bullshit! Healing people doesn't make her act all… Weird, like that!"

"Well that's not _my_ problem, now is it?"

Victoria, so focused on the villain in front of her, didn't even notice his hand slipping into his jacket, slowly withdrawing a large revolver as she tossed him back and forth.

"Well I say it _is_ your problem, until you- _Gnh!"_

Her head snapped backwards as a force like a haymaker from a heavyweight boxer slammed into her chin. She brought both hands to her face, clutching at the point of impact.

" _Fffuck!"_ She hissed, bobbing around as she pressed both hands to her jaw. She could take a hit with the best Brutes, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. "God _dammit!_ What the hell was that?"

It took her another moment of silence to realize that she was missing something.

"Oh _SHIT!"_ She immediately plunged into a nosedive, on the off chance that the guy she had been holding hadn't hit the ground yet, but she already knew.

He was dead.

"Oh shit oh shit _ohshitohshitohshit!_ " She mumbled, floating up to to the former villain's broken body. His arms and legs were all bent at weird angles, clearly in the wrong positions and making shapes that arms and legs should never make. "Oh god… _"_

She hadn't meant to kill him. Just rough him up a bit, maybe get him to apologize or something! And now he was dead, and it was her fault.

A cold dread settled in her stomach.

 _She had killed him._

Victoria wrapped her arms around herself; curling into a ball floating a few feet above the ground next to the villain's body, she choked back a sob.

" _...Ow."_

Looking up at the source of the sound, Victoria saw the man she had thought dead or dying shifting slowly, trying to lean up on his elbows.

"You're still alive!" She sobbed. Falling back on long established instincts, she moved to pick him up. "I'll get you to Amy, she'll get you fixed up."

" _Fuck me… That shit fucking hurt…"_

Much as she was loathe to put Amy through whatever had shaken her up so much, Victoria was sure she'd understand when a life was on the line. She couldn't let herself become a murderer. Leaning over to hook her hands around his arms, she was met with a limp wristed slap across the face as he flailed in pain.

" _Ow… Ow ow owowow waitwaitwait!"_ He fell back to the ground with a pained groan. "Alright… Alright, just let me…" He let out a large, sighing breath. "Okay, I've got this. I've had worse"

The villain's head turned to face Victoria, the eyes lit up a bright red.

"Hey, kid, do me a favor, and stop helping," He rasped, "You literally could not be doing _any_ worse at it."

Victoria nodded frantically, her eyes still rimmed with red as she backed off.

"Alright then…" Victoria watched quietly as he examined his broken arm, grabbing it with his one good hand. "If I remember correctly, just gotta…"

Victoria flinched as he wrenched his arm straight, the joint giving a loud crack as it slipped back into its socket. The cape just let out a low hiss, air whistling through his teeth as he exhaled.

"Better. Now I just gotta fix these legs…"

Victoria tried to cover her eyes and ears, cringing as the cape methodically straightened each limb with an eye-watering crack. When the cracking finally stopped, Victoria opened one eye to see him with a small bag of medical tools, splinting his legs as he injected some kind of medicine into them.

"You… alright there?" She finally asked, floating over curiously.

"I'm better," He grunted, "Hell of a drop though. You do that to everyone you meet?"

"What? No!" She sputtered.

"Ah, I get it. I'm special then." Victoria could practically hear his smug grin under his helmet.

"Gee, asshole, good to know I didn't permanently cripple you or anything." She growled. He just laughed, though, leaving Victoria boggling.

"Ah, this is far from the worst I've had to deal with. You should've seen the state I was in after I decided to go spelunking in Dead Wind. Fought the biggest damn Deathclaw I've ever seen," He chuckled, "Well, second biggest, at least."

"What the hell is a Deathclaw…?"She murmured.

"Oh. Seriously?" He tilted his head curiously. "Here, check this out."

Reaching into his jacket, the cape produced a hand that could perhaps be described, liberally, as the literal fucking hand of Satan himself.

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's a claw." He said flatly. "A Deathclaw's claw. Obviously. They didn't get the name for their sharp teeth or pointy horns, even if they've got those too."

"What, was it some sort of… Biotinker's experiment?

"Pff, _I wish_ I knew who created them," The man laughed, "So I could beat their head in."

"Wait," Victoria's voice went quiet, "You make it sound like there's a lot of them. Anyone who let something that dangerous looking breed would get a kill order for sure…"

"Kid, they're all over the damn Mojave and beyond. Have been for so long I doubt anyone knows where they came from anymore."

"Wait- The Mojave? You mean, like, In the southwest? Around Vegas?" Victoria was skeptical. Last she heard, there weren't any monsters that looked like something Bonesaw would make for a pet around there.

"You know about Vegas?" Six's voice was curious.

"Know about Vegas? Who hasn't heard of Las Vegas?" Victoria gave him a quizzical look. "Why? I haven't heard about anything happening to it. Or about these 'Deathclaws' of yours, for that matter."

"I mean, Last I heard, Vegas was in the same state as usual." The cape shrugged. "Mostly irradiated wasteland, but not as bad as some other places I've traveled. Also, we call it _New_ Vegas now."

"Irradiated? From what?"

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe the nukes?" Six shrugged. "House might've kept Vegas intact, but even he couldn't save everything the day the bombs dropped."

"Wait, wait. What?" Vicky held up both hands in a slow down gesture.

"What do you mean, what?" His tone was bland. "2077, the day the world ended? Look, I get you guys have, like a cult or whatever that tells you that it's 2011 and punishes anyone who disagrees, but I promise I won't turn you in to the local Enclave or whoever that's running the show here."

Victoria was quiet for a moment, eyeing the cape incredulously.

"What… I didn't understand _any_ of what you just said. 2077? Nukes? Are you high?"

Six stared at her silently, muttering under his breath.

"...Yes." He finally said, his voice monotone. "I am totally high off my ass. You should just disregard everything I just said."

Victoria sighed, rolling her eyes. That… Actually made a lot of sense. This cape was probably some new Merchant recruit or something. They got him hooked on whatever he was on, and he did whatever they asked to get more. She still felt a little guilty about breaking all his limbs like that, but he seemed fine now. Probably he was a regenerator of some kind.

"Soo… You wanna explain what all of-" He made a broad motion with his hands, gesturing to the roof around them. " _That_ was?"

Victoria winced. She had been hoping she could just sneak off once she was sure he wasn't going to die. She probably should have.

"I just wanted to protect my sister. She came home all weird last night. Then I saw that it was after she met you, and I…"

She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. What kind of weak-ass excuse was that?

' _You scared my sister, so now I'm going to threaten you with crippling bodily harm.'_

"Makes sense, I guess." He grunted, leaning back. "Sorta."

Victoria's head whipped around, staring incredulously.

"Seriously?"

"Didn't say I entirely agree," He muttered, "But I agree with the sentiment. Lord knows I've done my fair share of shit for my family, if you could call 'em that."

"Really? Like what?"

"Oh, you know." He waved his hand dismissively. "Killing... Corporate espionage… Killing…"

"What!?" Victoria nearly shrieked.

"Yes, yes, I know. _Corporate espionage…_ Eugh, even the word sounds slimy."

"Not that, the killing!" She shot him glare. "What gives you the right to take other people's lives?"

"Who said anything about the _right_ to kill people?" He shot back flatly. "They attacked me first. Got what they deserved."

Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a bottle that reeked of alcohol, offering it to her.

"No thanks…" She muttered.

"Suit yourself." He shrugged, and pulling the cap off, he took a long gulp. "..Anyway, I oughta get going. No point reminiscing on the past."

With that, he pushed himself to his feet, and started shuffling over to the edge of the roof, peering down at the ground.

"Eh. That drop won't kill me."

And then he was gone, leaving Victoria alone on the roof, save for a sound not unlike a large tree branch snapping, and a loud exclamation of _"FUCK!"_ from the direction the cape had just left.

It was only once she herself stood up to leave that she realized she hadn't even found out his name.

* * *

 **So, did anyone else know that they released Burnout: Paradise Remastered, or was I just supposed to find that out myself? I fuckin' loved Revenge.  
But anyway, on to more relevant things than the reason this chapter was delayed:  
Eugh... This chapter really fought me on the way out. The part with Assault was easy enough, but Victoria's part just took forever, and then it started feeling excessively long, and I had another part with Assault, Battery, and Panacea at the hospital, but I wanted to get this out before I went on vacation, so I just decided fuck it, here you go. I think I'm finding my groove, ironically, as far as actual writing style. I'm going to cut back on the artsy creative stuff a bit like the flashbacks and the PHOs, and focus on the meat and potatoes of writing from here on. Chapter 2's just looking more and more like a trainwreck, and I'm of half a mind to just spoiler it and post the summary of the chapter to avoid driving off prospective readers. I was riding the high of positive response too much to focus on writing quality.  
Oh well. Live and learn and write more, yeah?  
**

 _ **Edit: Hoo... This edit was a long time coming. Too long, to be frank. Ah well, at least it's done. I practically overhauled the whole chapter, cuz let's be honest, it was kinda shit. Mood whiplash and all that. I need to learn to keep the tone a bit more unified with more of the "goofy" stuff. Hopefully next chapter will have been worth it.**_ ** _Also, I stand by the Caesar/Kaiser pun. Kaiser is a germanization (Is that a word?) of the Latin "Caesar", sort of like 'Tsar' for the Russians. Check it on Wikipedia._**


	5. Interlude 1-1

"Assault, you had something to add?"

All the capes that formed the Brockton Bay Protectorate sat gathered around a conference table at the Protectorate HQ, Director Piggot standing at the head as they reviewed the day's engagements. Mush and Crusader hadn't been the only major encounter that day: Skidmark had also started a skirmish along the border between Merchant and ABB territory. Given how they had run off once a serious fight was on horizon, it was most likely just a show of strength rather than the first shots of a gang war, but when the difference between the two was a pile of innocent bodies, they couldn't afford to take chances.

"Ah, yeah." Assault sat up, all business. Even Battery next to him looked a little stiffer than usual. "You're aware that Battery and I intervened in the fight between Mush and Crusader this morning, correct?"

"I am. Did you have something you wanted to mention about it?"

"Yes ma'am. Immediately before we intervened, we encountered a new cape while on patrol; I mentioned it in my report, but there were a few things that we felt should be reiterated here."

The collected capes perked up, intrigued, as Piggot leafed through a folder full of after-action reports and other relevant notices. No matter if they were friend or foe, a new cape on the scene was big news, even in the Parahuman capital of the world.

"Yes, I have it here. Your report said he goes by the name _'Courier'_?"

"That's the one. Did you also read the part about his gear?"

"I skimmed it." Piggot muttered, her eyes scanning the paper in her hands. "Multiple Tinkertech weapons, including a possible teleportation device, by his own claims?"

"Yeah. Looks sorta like one of those plasma balls out a sci-fi movie mad scientist's lab. He also had something he called a 'Holorifle'."

"Here it is. You mentioned the weapon fired 'a bolt of light' at Crusader, instantly incapacitating him." Piggot's eyes narrowed. "When he finally received medical attention, he had second- and third-degree burns across most of his body, with his armor melted and fused to his skin in some parts, requiring it to be surgically removed before he could be treated."

A few people shifted uncomfortably around the table. That was a dangerous level of force for dealing with a simple skirmish.

"Well, we were approached by Panacea while keeping watch over Crusader at Brockton General, after she took care of the worst of his burns," Assault chuckled, "Wanted to know how we got out of a fight with Lung without a scratch."

"What of it?" Piggot leaned forward, looking annoyed. "Get to the point, Assault."

"Right. Anyway, I told her it wasn't Lung who did it, but this new cape, calling himself Courier." Ethan leaned over the table, his expression deadly serious. "Apparently, she's familiar with the guy. Told us some interesting stuff. For one thing, he's barely alive, at least by whatever standards her power uses to qualify something as alive."

Piggot paused, raising one eyebrow.

"Explain."

"The kid wasn't exactly forthcoming with information," Assault muttered, "But apparently under that jacket of his, he, and I quote, _'makes fucking Bonesaw's victims look tame by comparison.'_ unquote." Assault paused, and then added, almost as an afterthought, "Also, he apparently doesn't have a brain."

"No, she said his brain isn't in his head." Battery interrupted, turning to the Director. "She very specifically mentioned that not only had his brain been removed, but that he kept it in a jar that he carried with him." The room went quiet, every person laser focused on the cape duo's tale.

"You're certain?" Piggot finally asked.

" _She_ was." Battery grunted. "Apparently, both the brain and his head had matching scarification and other signs of trauma. If it was enough to convince her, I'd say it's probably the truth."

The room was deathly silent. Velocity looked a little green under his mask, and the rest of Protectorate capes weren't much better. Even Armsmaster's jaw tightened at the revelation.

"...Trigger event?" He muttered, voicing the same thought running through everyone's head.

"I'll be damned if it isn't related." Assault replied, all traces of humour gone from his voice.

"Christ…" Someone whispered.

"Anyway, that was one thing I thought I should mention. Also, I _may_ have told him I'd… _setupameetingwithArmsmasterforhim."_

" _What?"_ Armsmaster's head whipped around, eyes wide open. Assault winced, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yyyeah… I know. At first, I figured it would be a good chance to have him come in, and you guys-" He gestured to Piggot and Armsmaster. "-Could give him the whole _spiel_ to try to get him to sign on with us, but then the fight with Crusader happened, and frankly, I wasn't about to piss off the guy who leaves full grown men sobbing like babies." Assault shrugged helplessly. "No offence, ma'am but I fear full-body third-degree burns more than I fear your wrath."

Piggot sighed crossly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Alright. Fine. I can't say you were entirely unjustified, given Courier's apparent propensity for excessive force."

Assault let out a sigh of relief.

"That doesn't mean you're off the hook." She added. "When did he say he would arrive?"

Assault froze.

"Oh… He, uh… _He didn't…_ " He whispered meekly.

Piggot glared at him. If looks could kill, she would have reduced him to a thin red paste right then and there.

"What. Do you mean. He didn't." She ground out.

"He didn't mention a time!" Assault squawked, his voice bordering on hysterical. "He just asked me to set it up and ran off!"

Battery edged back from her partner, mirroring the movements of the capes seated next to her partner as she eyed the white-knuckled grip Piggot had on the table.

"We are going to have a talk about your duties as a member of the Protectorate later, Assault." She turned to Armsmaster. "I'm officially cancelling all of your duties that would require you to be off the Rig for any reason. I want you to make sure that you're free to meet this new cape whenever he shows up, and do whatever it takes to convince him to join our side. We _cannot_ afford to lose another potential heroic cape to the gangs. When he arrives, do whatever you need to in order to get him on our side. I'll take responsibility to make sure we follow through on it." Nodding her head to Assault, she added, " _He_ can take your position on any scheduled patrols or public appearances."

Assault whined pitifully, Battery patting his shoulder consolingly.

"In regards to Courier himself, if any of you encounter him in the field, you're to approach him in a friendly manner, and try to convince him to join the Protectorate; or at least figure out when he intends to arrive for his meeting with Armsmaster. Inform the Wards they are not to approach him under any circumstances: he's still too much of an unknown to put them at risk."

Looking around the table at the assembled capes, Piggot sighed.

"Now then, unless anyone has any other information relevant to this new cape, let's move on. Velocity, you said Miss Militia and yourself encountered Skidmark leading a group of Merchant thugs?"

* * *

 **Ah-heh...**

 **Heeeey there...**

 **It's been, what? A month? Almost two? Man, time sure flies, doesn't it?**

 **Alright, alright, real talk.**

 **I went on vacation, saw the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, and all those great sights, and I was so inspired that I sat down then and there and didn't write anything for like, two weeks. Then I went and revised the last three chapters, and then started working on Chapter five. Originally, this was the beginning of that chapter, but then I realized that a timeskip mid-chapter would cause all sorts of S.O.D. and continuity issues and whatever, and basically, it was a really bad idea. I also felt bad about not putting anything up for over... Forty-three days, by the site's count. Yikes.**

 **So anyway, here's a little treat to prove I'm not dead, the next chapter's coming sooner or later, and also a heads up:**

 **While fixing the last three chapters, (especially that last one, Jesus Cowtipping Christ what the fuck was I thinking posting that as it was?), I've hopefully gotten the tone a bit more... y'know, consistent. As a result, however, I may have retroactively un-killed characters I originally suggested were dead, among other things. So even if you do remember the original chapters, you may want to read them over anyway, just for funzies. Also tell me if they're still shit. Or not shit. Or just give me a thumbs up. Please.**


	6. Interlude 1-2

**Sup. Didn't take forever to get this out, even if it is only a PHO interlude. Originally I was going to write a few more chapters of Six fucking around in BB, and make a joke about "doing sidequests first and letting the main story fall by the wayside". Then I decided I didn't want to write that much useless filler and you probably didn't want to read it. So anyway, here's what Six has been doing the past couple weeks.**

* * *

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 **Topic: Murders in Brockton Bay**

 **In: Boards ► Brockton Bay**

 **JimmyLaw** (Original Poster) (BBPD)

Posted On Jan 29th 2011:

Hey all.

I figured anyone in Brockton Bay would want a heads up about a string of recent murders in Brockton Bay.

Now, I know what you're all thinking, "But Jimmy, this Brockton Bay! We see enough killing here to make a crime noir series look euphemistic!" And you'd be right.

That said, we've been seeing an unusual amount of murders, even for our fair city. In the past two weeks, we've found multiple groups of thugs massacred wholesale by some unknown vigilante.

There doesn't seem to be any particular rhyme or reason, but once a day or so we'll get a call about a gunfire somewhere in the city, only to arrive to a pile of dead bodies, most of them looted down to their underwear.

And I do mean that literally. We've found dozens of dead men with their clothes stripped off post-mortem, along with their wallets, other valuables, and any weapons they may have had on them.

The PRT stepped in once we found evidence of concentrated areas of second- and third-degree burns on a few of them, so everyone knows what that means: Tinkertech.

Anyway, just a heads up to everyone out there to stay even more vigilant than usual, and don't go down dark alleyways.

 **(Showing page 2 of 3)**

► **Sweettech**

Replied On Jan 30th 2011:

Damn. Brockton's even worse than usual, huh?

Least the guy's only hitting gangbangers tho.

► **LocalShiny** (Cape Groupie)

Replied On Jan 30th 2011:

You think he's targeting gangers on purpose or just fucked in the head?

Seems pretty excessive for a new cape, but where else would he get Tinkertech weapons?

► **GunboatGuns** (Gun Nut)

Replied On Jan 30th 2011:

What kinda weapons is this guy using? Sounds like he's got a bit of lead alongside that Tinkertech.

► **JimmyLaw** (Original Poster) (BBPD)

Replied On Jan 30th 2011:

GunboatGuns I think we've found just about every small arms caliber you can name at least once, alongside a few others you couldn't. There's been a lot of 9mm and 5.56 casings, but also some pretty exotic ones. 10mm, 12.7, even a hand full of .45-70, according to the forensics guys, to say nothing of the explosives. Whoever this guy is, we're pretty sure he's got enough weapons to start a small war. Maybe even a big one.

► **GunboatGuns** (Gun Nut)

Replied On Jan 30th 2011:

JimmyLaw Is that a challenge I hear? ;P

► **UpperToxic**

Replied On Jan 30th 2011:

Fucking finally someone actually starts doing shit about this shit.

Capes are all well and dangerous, but its the normal thugs that do most of the damage, and the BBPD can't do shit (no offense Jimmy) and the PRT *won't* do shit.

► **JimmyLaw** (Original Poster) (BBPD)

Replied On Jan 30th 2011:

UpperToxic ...None taken. Trust me, you're far from the only one frustrated at the BBPD's... 'impotency'. I joined because I wanted to help keep my neighborhood safe from the gangers, and now I'm lucky any day nobody tries to shoot me or my buddies.

► **CrossedKiwi**

Replied On Jan 31st 2011:

Hey, doesn't Coil's gang use Tinkertech? I think I heard someone mention that once.

Maybe they're behind this?

► **GunboatGuns** (Gun Nut)

Replied On Jan 31st 2011:

CrossedKiwi Yeah, I heard that too. The regular bullets are all wrong though. .45-70's a big game round. Big and heavy, but they don't make automatic weapons like those guys would use in that size.

► **Marketiq**

Replied On Jan 31st 2011:

JimmyLaw Damn dude, that's harsh. Respect for your service.

 **End of Page.** **1** **, 2**

 **(Showing page 3 of 3)**

► **JimmyLaw** (Original Poster) (BBPD)

Replied On Jan 31st 2011:

Marketiq Thank you. It's always nice to know people appreciate what you do, even if you don't get all the attention like the PRT.

► **UpperToxic**

Replied On Jan 31st 2011:

You know... I may be way off, but do you think this has anything to do with your mystery killer?

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **, 3**

 **Topic: Crusader Behind Bars**

 **In: Boards ► Brockton Bay**

 **ShiphandMike** (Original Poster)

Posted On Jan 5th 2011:

Decent men and women of Brockton Bay rejoice, for the notorious Empire Cape known as Crusader has been arrested (again).

The PRT released a statement this morning that he was captured yesterday by none other than Assault and Battery, with the assistance of a new, as-of-yet unnamed cape.

They intervened in a skirmish between Mush and Crusader along with a few unpowered thugs each, chasing Mush off and incapacitating Crusader.

For now though, that's one less homicidal Neo-Nazi asshole on the streets, which is a positive in my book.

Let's just hope it sticks, eh?

 **(Showing page 5 of 35)**

► **PressVikings**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

Glory Glory Hallelujah!

Always good news to learn there's one less Nazi out there.

► **TipsHat**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

Any bets on how long this one lasts? We all know the PRT's track record with actually *keeping* capes in custody.

► **DogForCat**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

TipsHat Shush you. We're all aware. You'd rather Crusader still be on the loose?

► **TipsHat**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

DogForCat I'd rather he went to the Birdcage, where he belongs.

► **CrownReport** (Cape Groupie)

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

What about that "unnamed cape" though? Did they say anything about him?

► **PressVikings**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

CrownReport I'm looking over the press release right now. Not a lot of anything substantial, so I imagine it was his first day out.

Anyone got anything to add?

► **Nutkrakker**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

Oh shit, I saw this fight.

Here's a few pics I managed to snap from my front door down the street. I was busy hiding behind the doorframe and trying not to attract attention :)

At first I thought that guy in the coat was Krieg, but it looks more like he was actually that new cape the report mentioned. Didn't get any video, but you should've seen him fight Crusader. Dropped the man in one shot.

► **PressVikings**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

Huh. He kinda does look like Krieg. If Krieg actually looked scary and not like a Nazi trying too hard and failing to pull off the "creepy silent type" look.

► **Lunatical**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

PressVikings Careful you don't get the wrong kind of attention with comments like that...

You know how some capes get when you start insulting their fashion sense. :P

► **PressVikings**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

Lunatical Yeah? Well if a twenty-something amateur journalist pops up dead in the next week or two, it was good knowing y'all.

Nutkrakker I just noticed, what's up with that that shit covering Crusader right after he goes down? Did the cape do that?

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **,** **4** **, 5,** **6** **,** **7** **...** **33** **,** **34** **,** **35**

 **(Showing page 6 of 35)**

► **Nutkrakker**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

PressVikings Yea, the cape shot him with some kind of Tinkertech rifle.

Crusader dropped like a sack of bricks. It was pretty entertaining to watch, but the sounds? I've never heard a man screaming like that.

► **CrownReport** (Cape Groupie)

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

Nutkrakker Screaming? What exactly did he do?

► **Nutkrakker**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

I'm not sure what that gun of his did, but Crusader was screaming like someone was ripping out his fingernails and beating his dog to death right in front of him at the same time. I almost felt sorry for him, but, y'know, he's Empire, so fuck him.

Oh yeah, and this is right after the new cape got stabbed in the chest by a couple projections. You can't really see it in the pictures, but the guy ran headfirst into one of those ghosts of his, and took a lance to chest. He walked it off pretty quick, and then he shot Crusader.

► **Gazettelect**

Replied On Jan 6th 2011:

Hey! I saw this guy at the hospital the other day!

► **PressVikings**

Replied On Jan 7th 2011:

NutKrakker Jeez. Guess that's definitely a Brute rating of some kind, huh?

Gazettelect The hospital? What was he doing there?

► **Gazettelect**

Replied On Jan 7th 2011:

PressVikings Hell if I know. Here's the thread I made on it. Not much in the way of useful information, though I can't imagine Panacea is a particular fan of his, based on her reaction.

► **Reave** (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Jan 7th 2011:

I recognize this guy. We don't have enough to say anything officially, but according to Assault, he goes by 'Courier', though he said he may have misheard.

Not much else I can say, officially or otherwise, except that he seems heroic for the most part, if a little... overenthusiastic. We're expecting him to come in for power testing and registration, but I have no idea when.

► **PressVikings**

Replied On Jan 7th 2011:

Reave Well hey, we've got a name, at least. Not sure what kind of name Courier is though. Maybe he's a Mover?

Guess we'll learn more sooner or later.

► **CrownReport** (Cape Groupie)

Replied On Jan 7th 2011:

PressVikings Seems like an odd powerset. Brute and Mover? I know a lot of Alexandria Packages have flight and enhanced durability, but a name like Courier kind of implies his power is primarily Mover focused. Did anyone actually see what kind of damage Crusader's ghosts did to him? That's some thick looking armor. Could he have just, y'know, ignored it?

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* * *

 **Still acclimating to College life, so I'm a little overwhelmed and yet at the same time, more motivated than ever to get shit done. It's kind of weird, but not entirely unpleasant, I suppose. Next update should be a real chapter, in which the actual plot makes an appearance for the first time.**


	7. Chapter 5

**Nyeh-hey, not a bad turnaround this time for a full chapter. Two and a bit weeks? I can live with that.**

* * *

Brad Meadows, or rather, Hookwolf, looked out over the crowd gathered before him, the men cheering and calling for blood around the ring below him; Kaiser could posture and pretend all he wanted at those Empire rallies, but right here, right now, _he_ was king.

He savored the cheers of the crowd as the dogs below bit and tore into each other, bleeding and dying for the entertainment of the masses, money changing hands as new challengers entered to face reigning champions, and men bet on their lives. It was times like this he almost wished that bitch that kept attacking his 'businesses' would show up. He'd take pleasure in ripping her apart personally, if she were ever stupid enough to face him. For now, though, he would just enjoy the sounds and sights of dogs ripping each other apart.

"Hey."

Brad twitched, turning to look at the dumbass that had decided to interrupt him. If it was _Reggie_ coming to him with some stupid fucking problem he could have just taken care of himself, Brad was going to rip out his guts and strangle him with them.

" _What-?"_ Brad snapped, freezing as he turned to face the armored figure behind him.

"Heard I could earn money here," The man said matter-of-factly, "Figured I could win a few fights or something."

Brad stared silently for a moment. That costume looked familiar… He just couldn't place it.

"This is a dog fighting ring." He growled.

"Alright. I'll fight dogs. Doesn't really matter to me."

"No, you fucking dumbass; dogs fighting _other dogs._ What are you, retarded? Get out!"

"Look man," The cape held up his hands placatingly, "I'm just looking to make some money. Can I do that here or not?"

"The fuck do I care about your money? Get out before I decide to rip you apart!"

His metal churned beneath his skin, poking and stabbing out in places. Maybe it was time he taught the dumbasses among the crowd what happened to people that fucked with him.

The stranger didn't react for a moment, finally shrugging and heading back the way he came. Brad suppressed a small shiver. Something about that guy was... off.

The way he held himself, it wasn't like the stupid lackey he played as: That was a stone cold killer he had just snapped at, as surely as he, or Stormtiger, or Cricket was.

He watched as the man wove through the crowd, making his way to the ring. He looked sort of like Krieg, but less of a dumbass.

Was he a cape?

Brad decided he should keep an eye on him, _just in case_.

Best case scenario? Maybe he had just found another recruit for the Empire. Whoever this guy was, he couldn't possibly be worse than Crusader, now that the man was near-catatonic.

That new cape that took him down, whoever he was, must have done a number on Justin. Brad would have approved, had it happened to someone outside the Empire. As it was, however, Kaiser was calling for this rookie cape's head, and Brad wasn't about to stick his neck out just for one good fighter. Or at least a decent one; this was _Justin_ , after all. The pussy could've stood to get his nose bloodied a bit.

That said, he'd be sure to give the cape a fighter's death, if he got the chance. He deserved that much.

Maybe he'd show up tonight? They didn't know much about the guy, other than that he used Tinkertech, and wore a costume that made him look sort of…

Like…

Krieg….

 _What did they say the guy's name was? Courier?_

Hookwolf grinned like his namesake animal beneath his mask.

How _convenient._

He watched as the latest fight drew to a close, the winner being led away and the loser dragged off in the other direction, and then cleared his throat.

"Alright! Listen up!"

In the open warehouse, his voice echoed over the crowd, quickly silencing any side conversations.

"Turns out we've got a real fighter in the house tonight!" Brad pointed at the cape that had approached him not minutes ago. "You've all heard about that new cape, _Courier,_ that took down Crusader? The one who's been going around, killing your brothers?" Brad grinned as murmurs rippled through his audience. "Well, there he is!"

The crowd quickly dispersed around the cape, creating a hole of open space. He made a 'who, me?' gesture, looking around at the crowd, which had begun to grow agitated, confusion turning to anger as they finally noticed the killer among them.

"Well, you sure know how to make a man feel special," The cape finally said, "I mean, you went through all this trouble to put on a good fight for little ol' me?"

The cape's tone sent a smattering of chuckles through the less confident in the crowd, though they died quickly as Brad growled.

"Think you're smart, do you?" He jumped down from his perch above the ring, pushing his blades out through his skin as he fell. The crowd scattered as he did, leaving a proper fighting ring between the two capes to duke it out in. "Let's see how mouthy you are when you're trying to hold in your own guts!"

"Ooh, scary." The cape grunted in a not-at-all-scared tone, rummaging in his coat for something.

With a high-pitched digital whine, the eyes of the cape's helmet lit up as he pulled out some sort of wrist mounted buzzsaw… thing. Brad could swear there was something _different_ about the cape before him as he raised his fists in preparation: It was something small, the sort of thing only a veteran fighter like himself would spot, but it was there. A tiny shift in stance, a slight bend in the knees; this was a veteran pit fighter.

"Least you'll be a good fight." Brad grinned. "If Kaiser wasn't calling for your head, I'd probably be tryin' to recruit you right now."

"Caesar?" The cape's hands dropped a fraction of an inch, his entire stance tightening up. "You're shitting me. You're with Caesar's 'Empire', or whatever you guys are calling yourselves now?"

Brad stood silently, his head tilted. Did this fucking retard _seriously_ not know who _he_ was?

The cape let out a long, almost disappointed sigh.

"And here I was hoping I'd be able to have a nice, wholesome night of bloodsport. Now it turns out I gotta kill a whole fuckin' building full of assholes."

Brad growled as Courier's saw-glove revved up, both of them charging each other.

"I'll show you fucking bloodsport!" He howled, lunging toward the cape as his blades shifted and morphed, colliding with the circular saw. With a screech of steel on steel, sparks flew in all directions, Hookwolf throwing himself at the man again and again.

To his credit, the cape's form was great. He didn't flinch, even when Brad threw himself bodily at him, just dodging when he could, or blocking with his glove's blade when he couldn't. He wasn't leaving a single opening for Brad to exploit.

Eventually though, he'd have to break. Even if it was just a matter of tanking hits from that saw until the blade broke. The fact of the matter was, in a battle of attrition like this, Brad had the advantage over whatever tinkertech this guy had stuffed in his coat; _he_ could keep regenerating what damage he took near indefinitely.

The cape let out an annoyed grunt as the bent and warped saw blade caught on its housing.

 _Speak of the devil._

Tossing it to the side, he dug back into his coat as Brad pushed his advantage, the crowd cheering around them. His men wanted blood, and that's what he'd give them. When Courier brought his hand back out, it had yet another glove wrapped around it; black this time, instead of bright yellow. With a shout, Brad ran forward, blades churning around him and his 'mouth' wide open, ready to finish the fight. He'd rip this guy's arm off, then let him bleed out the rest of the way. Maybe let the thugs have a few shots at the guy before he did. Fuck giving him an 'honorable death'; it was time to end this.

Lunging forward with a howl, Brad's body collided with the cape's, sending them both flying. There were shouts as the crowd scattered, rushing to avoid the brawlers as they rolled across the floor. Brad slashed and clawed, trying to get a grip on the cape's armor as Courier drove his fist into Brad's side over and over, blasting him with lead pellets with each strike.

Finally, they slammed into the wall, flying out into the street. With a grunt, Courier managed to kick Brad off, forcing him back while he got to his feet.

Slowly, the two fighters circled, sizing each other up. Internally, Brad grinned. He hadn't had this good of a fight since he triggered; just two men with nothing but their heads and their fists (and their powers, admittedly), each trying to brutalize the other into submission. He would've loved to keep this going forever, but now that they were out in the open, they were on a time limit. Somebody was bound to show up sooner or later to investigate the noise, and Brad didn't delude himself hoping that they'd be friendly.

It was time to end things.

"You're a damn good fighter." Brad grunted, his voice slightly distorted from his blades.

"Same to you," Courier chuckled, "Shame you weren't at the Battle for the Dam. Maybe then Lanius wouldn't have gotten his ass handed to him like he did."

"The fuck are you going on about?"

Courier laughed.

"Holy shit, you guys already did the 'forbidding speaking his name' thing or whatever? I get that it's like, _your thing,_ and that you did the same thing with Graham, but honestly? Pretending you don't know him just makes you look like a dumbass."

Brad growled, his blades churning violently.

"Anyway, I think it's about time we ended this, yeah?"

Brad didn't bother to respond, lunging forward to make another slash at Courier.

If he could just get one good hit past that armor, he'd have the win: It was thicker than the shit PRT troopers usually had, just thick enough that his blades couldn't quite dig in enough to do real damage. He just needed a bit more leverage.

As Brad approached Courier, the man sidestepped his attack, ducking down to grab a handful of rubble and flinging it at Brad's face in one motion. It wasn't much, just enough to force him to shut his eyes, to keep out any tiny particles, but it was enough. When Brad turned back around, the cape held a huge red and white lance, the end sparking menacingly.

This time, it was Courier that attacked first, his lance stuck out like a Hookwolf-seeking missile. Brad lashed out to bat it to the side, but hissed as his hand came into contact with the superheated end. He jerked back in instinctual fear of the sparking tinkertech device. He'd been hurt before, but that lance had just gone right past his blades. This wasn't a threat he could just throw himself at any more. This was a threat Brad hadn't faced since fighting in the Pits himself.

Brad made a tactical retreat, keeping his distance from Courier and his lance as the cape stalked towards him.

It was easy enough to cycle the blades that the lance had melted back in and replace them with fresh ones, but the tables had been turned, and Brad no longer held the advantage. He dashed into a nearby alley with Courier following behind, using his blades to dig into the brick wall and gain some altitude over the cape. When Courier finally arrived, he let go, diving towards the man with a victorious howl.

Faster than any normal person could have reacted, though, the cape looked up, his eyes burning red. Brad had only a moment to consider his mistake when the lance's tip rose up to meet his body, sinking in deep enough to nick his _real_ body. Brad howled in pain, jumping back once more. When Courier reappeared, framed in the light from the street, the lance sparking and smoking menacingly and the cape himself barely looking the worse for wear, he realized he was outclassed. With one arm slagged and charred, Brad focused on regenerating what he could of his blades to protect himself.

Distantly, it occurred to him that he should have run already, but he ignored it. He didn't have anywhere to run now, his back against the alley wall. It was time to fight or die, and never let it be said that Brad Meadows wasn't a damn good fighter.

Howling one more time, his arms outstretched and frothing with bladed metal, Brad charged the cape head on, intent on tackling Courier beneath his weight and simultaneously pummeling and shredding the cape to death, Brad found himself brought up short by the lance once more, the tip sinking deep into center mass.

He felt an odd tingling in his chest, his blades working quickly to try to siphon off whatever heat they could, but it was already too late. His legs gave out. He fell to the ground, the tip still embedded in his body. The scent of charred flesh and vaporized steel filled his lungs, but he was focused on the man above him.

The glowing red eyes. The unblinking stare. This was Death itself come to take him to hell, kicking and screaming if need be. Brad smiled beneath his mask, the metal in question still in relatively good condition, compared to the rest of his body.

"You know, I just remembered a joke I heard once." Courier chuckled, casually leaning on the lance as it melted through steel and flesh. "Hey buddy, tell me, what's worse than ten guys crucified on one cross?"

Brad was silent, his jaw locked tight in pain.

"Mmh… Not in a joking mood, huh?" Courier sighed. "Dammit, I really wanted to use that one on you. I mean, you're Legion and everything, _and_ you've got the whole 'dog head' thing like the Frumentarii. It would've been the next best thing compared to doing it to Vulpes himself, but that fucker's already dead."

Courier pulled the lance out of Brad's chest, leaving a charred hole around where his heart would be, and raised the tip high.

"Anyway, fuck you, yadda yadda, see you in hell."

Silently, unceremoniously, Brad watched the lance fall, the last thing he saw before the tip connected with his head was the eyes of Death itself, the fires of Hell reflected in their gaze.

* * *

With a sigh, Hannah dismounted her motorcycle, scanning the street in front of her.

"Console, I'm on scene now. Seems like the fight's already finished."

"Console copies, Miss Militia. Lock down the area until PRT agents arrive."

"Roger that, Console."

Changing her weapon into a shotgun, Miss Militia crept forward, scanning the street for threats. She could see the wall of a warehouse that had been smashed open. Inside she saw the caged ring, and the various Empire symbols adorning the walls.

"Console, be advised. I found one of Hookwolf's dog fighting rings. Looks like Hellhound hit another one of them."

"Confirmed. Be on the lookout for any civilian casualties."

Hannah nodded, stepping inside. The warehouse was deserted, which was unusual. Hellhound wasn't a cape known for using restraint, especially when she was 'liberating' dogs from rings like this. And yet, she couldn't find any bodies. She kneeled down to investigate a pair of shotgun shells laying on the floor, still smoking.

 _Odd._

She could see a few more littered around the area, but that didn't nearly account for the entire mob's worth of armed Empire thugs that almost certainly had been here. Somehow, whoever had done this had managed to deal with dozens of Empire foot soldiers without firing a single shot.

Moving back outside, Hannah could see a trail of ripped up pavement. Her grip tightened around her gun as she crept forward. The trail led into a nearby alley, and Hannah took a moment to steel herself.

"Console, be advised, Hookwolf may be on the rampage in my area. I've found evidence of a fight."

"Confirmed. Velocity is two minutes out. Engage at your discretion."

Hannah stood still for a moment, calming herself. Facing down Hookwolf alone wouldn't be the most dangerous thing she'd ever done, but it was certainly up there. As she leaned against the wall leading into the alley, preparing to clear it, she smelled something that made her want to gag.

 _Burnt flesh._

It wasn't an entirely unfamiliar scent, typically one that lingered in the wake of one of Lung's rampages, but the ABB obviously wasn't behind this particular fight. Not nearly enough collateral damage to be Lung's work.

Turning into the alley, she held her shotgun at the ready.

"PRT! Come out with your hands up!"

The figure that turned to greet her made her freeze, the red glow of his eyes sending a primal chill through her hindbrain; blood dripped from his front, and she could see the recently deceased body behind him, steel blades poking out at odd angles from a body that looked like the man had managed to eat a live grenade.

Then the man's night vision goggles turned off, and Miss Militia found herself with a slightly scruffy cape covered in another man's entrails.

"Uh… I know how this looks." He said, sheepishly, slowly raising his hands. "But… He attacked me first?"

* * *

 **Not really much to say about this chapter. A big ol' fight scene, and finally Courier Six runs into someone to politely and gently suggest that maybe he go talk to Armsmaster now, yeah?**


	8. Chapter 6

**Someone pointed out to me after my last chapter that my word count had hit 20,000 words precisely. I wonder if it's an omen of some sort?  
Ah well. Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

Colin stalked through the halls of the PRT Headquarters, every step measured and precise. He had gotten word only minutes ago that Miss Militia had encountered the new cape, Courier, and convinced him to finally come to talk. While Colin would admit that he had sort of enjoyed his 'confinement' to the Rig for the past month, having used much of his newfound free time to tinker, even he had limits before he started getting restless. After all, what good was tinkering if you never actually got a chance to test the things you made out in the field?

Nonetheless, it seemed as though his time confined to the Rig was finished, and perhaps the Protectorate ENE even had a new roster member in its future. Colin might even go so far as to say he was feeling optimistic about the future. Or perhaps that was just excitement at having a chance to test his _improved_ equipment on a fresh subject.

Making his way out of the elevator, he mentally reviewed what information they had on 'Courier'. The man had access to Tinkertech of his own, but likely wasn't a Tinker himself; otherwise he would have simply repaired his 'teleporter' himself and been on his way. The fact that this cape likely had some sort of support system in the form of other, non-combatant capes was both good and bad news. If the entire group could be convinced to join with the Protectorate, then it would be an amazing windfall, and certain to attract the attention of the higher-ups, to say nothing of the sort of force balancer it would be against the city's gangs.

On the other hand, the fact that they had already organized into team like they had would make actually convincing them that much harder, especially if they weren't open to the idea already. It would be difficult to leverage the fatality rate of independent capes if the person in question wasn't actually _independent._

Colin stopped outside the doors to the low security meeting room where Hannah had said she would wait with Courier. Through the doors, he could hear an unfamiliar male voice in the middle of a story.

" _...And so I'm standing there, crucifixes lining the road like a goddamn red carpet, and this… This motherfucker, his name's Vulpes, he looks sorta like this, with a dog's head and all, strolls out of the town hall, and he looks right at me. And then he… He says to me, 'Don't worry, I won't have_ you _lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates'!"_

The voice let out a loud guffaw, slamming his fist on the table.

" _And then I… I look around at this town full of dead and dying men, against a bunch of heavily armed men, compared to my little shotgun and pistol, and I say to the guy, 'The only degenerate I see here's wearing a dog on his head'!"_

Colin decided now would be a good time to intervene, pushing the doors open to a strange sight. Miss Militia sat at one end of the table, her face pale and the visible part of her expression one of polite hospitality that was _very_ rapidly stretching thin. In the seat next to her was the new cape, Courier. Strapped to his forehead was a… _rather familiar_ metal wolf's mask.

"Miss Militia." He said, curtly.

"Armsmaster," Her voice was grateful, "This is Courier Six, the cape I called you about."

"Of course." He nodded. "By the way, is that…?"

"It is. I saw the body myself."

Even through the bandanna that served as her mask, her grimace was clear.

"I see." Colin turned to face Courier Six himself, extending his hand. "Courier… Six? My name is Armsmaster. I was told you wanted to meet me?"

The cape stood up quickly, his 'trophy' still strapped to his head as he returned the handshake.

"Call me Six. Most people who call me 'Courier' end up dead."

The cape froze.

"...The fact that they called me Courier Six isn't why I killed them," He clarified, "They were totally asking for it."

"I'm sure." Colin responded dryly. "I can take over from here, Miss Militia. You're free to go."

Hannah nodded gratefully, clearly eager to be free of the man.

Taking the seat she had just vacated, Colin opened a rather thick folder of documentation, full of records pertaining to Six's actions in the past month or so.

"Before we begin, the were a few things that need to be cleared up." Colin slid a handful of images over to Six, each showing a different pile of bloody bodies stripped down to their underwear. "Firstly, we have reason to believe that you were involved in several massacres that have occured in the last month. Do you have anything to say with regards to these images?"

"Oh yeah. That was me. They shot first though."

Colin frowned. His armor's lie detector seemed to have some difficulty reading Six, the icon that indicated that it was processing an input spinning maddeningly. After several moments of tense silence, it popped up a TRUTH, with 72.21% likelihood.

"Mm-hm. Very well," Colin grumbled, "Assuming you are telling the truth, and were acting in self defence at the time, then you should be safe from any legal repercussions as a result of the deaths. The fact remains, however, that you have shown a propensity for excessive force that I assure you will cause problems in the future if you can't fix them."

"What kind of problems are we talking here?" Six leaned forward, intrigued. "Like, on a scale of one to ten?"

Colin sighed. Slowly.

"Tell me, Six, are you aware of the Unwritten Rules?"

"Isn't that something to do with, like, having sex with your friend's sister or whatever?

"No," Colin's eye twitched slightly, "The Unwritten Rules are something of a informal agreement between heroes and villains to prevent unnecessary escalation of violence and civilian casualties. One of the most significant of these rules forbids the use of lethal force."

"No offense, but that seems kinda stupid." Six grunted, tapping his looted wolf mask. "This guy I was fighting earlier was definitely trying to kill me. I don't think I want to give him another chance to try to kill me."

"Even so," Armsmaster countered, "By killing one of Kaiser's lieutenants, you've painted a huge target on your head. The rest of the Empire will be looking for your head now-"

"Good. I want him to know I'm coming." Six said, with an air of finality. "I killed the last Caesar, and I'll kill this one too."

Colin froze.

TRUTH. 83.67%

"Caesar? Do you mean Kai _ser_?"

"I guess." Six shrugged. "I've never heard people using 'Kaiser' before I got here, though. I guess it's like, uh... How did Ulysses put it? 'People following a flag without understanding its history'? Yeah, that sounds like something he'd say." Six reclined in his seat, propping his legs on the table. "Anyway, doesn't matter what he calls himself. Killing him's a public service."

Colin made a mental note to search the PRT records for the name 'Ulysses' later as he shuffled through his papers.

"Courier Six, I'm not sure you understand the severity of the danger you've put yourself in," He growled, "Do you really believe you can succeed in taking on an entire gang of Parahumans where the combined might of the government failed?"

"Why not?" Six's tone was nonchalant. "Did it once already in Vegas. Took over Hoover Dam, kicked the Legion out, then turned around and sent the NCR packing the same way."

TRUTH. 87.34%

Colin stared silently, in a mix of befuddlement and something resembling righteous indignation at Six's casual dismissal of the effort he had put into cleaning up the city.

"I would suggest you stop making up such blatantly false stories, Six. I'm quite certain there would have been more of a fuss had a completely unknown cape such as yourself singlehandedly commandeered Hoover Dam."

"Well, I didn't do it single handedly, _obviously_. I had Yes Man. And a robot army."

TRUTH. 72.57%

"Courier Six, I'm going to ask you one more time to stop with these blatantly false stories." Colin's tone had long since passed 'confused', and progressed to 'incensed'. "Especially when they can be disproved in a matter of _minutes_."

Six's feet slid off the table as he sat forward, taking a more aggressive posture.

"Then do it, _genius_. I may not be a paragon of virtue, but I ain't lying about this."

Fuming, Colin opened a webpage on his visor. It would be simple to sync the display to the projector mounted on the ceiling. It was child's play to find a series of photographs recently published to the internet by a tourist, and Colin folded his arms triumphantly as the projector warmed up.

"These are images of Hoover Dam from just a few days ago. As you can see, there is a distinct lack of 'robot armies', Six."

The Courier was silent for a moment, scanning over the images. Then, he began to laugh.

"Oh man, that is _rich!_ " He snickered, shaking in his seat. "Y'know, if you want to try to fool someone who's actually ever been to Hoover Dam, I'd suggest you don't use images from before the Great War. I know for a fact that the Dam's not nearly that clean looking, not to mention I don't think I've seen that many working cars _total_ in my life."

"I can assure you that these images are recent. The timestamp for these images says they were taken on January 28th, 2011. Approximately a week ago."

"That's the other thing," Courier turned to stare at Colin, "I don't know who the fuck's got everyone claiming that it's 2011, or why, but I'm not a fucking dumbass. You can admit it's 2282 already, I promise not to go around 'inciting rebellion', or whatever your logic is for putting all this on."

TRUTH. 95.65%

Colin paused, anger turning to confusion.

"Six, I can assure you that the year is 2011. Do you have any proof of your claims?"

"Do you?" Six paused. "Wait, shit, yeah, you just showed me. Uh… _Fuck,_ I dunno. Background radiation?"

Colin's eyes narrowed.

"Explain."

"Well, it's not like the world isn't a nuclear wasteland or anything. There has to be _something_ you can scan for to prove that."

Mentally, Colin gave the idea some thought, ignoring the detector's flashing TRUTH 95.73%.

Courier Six was being… strangely adamant about his story, despite the absurdity of it all, and all evidence pointed that he, at the very least, believed what he was saying.

Finally, he sighed.

"Yes, I believe I may have an idea. It will take some time to set up, however. If you'll wait here, I have some calls to make."

* * *

Hannah opened the door to the meeting room she had left 'Courier Six' in less than an hour ago. Armsmaster had called her, saying something about running some tests, and then asked her to keep an eye on the new cape until he was ready.

It was with only some reluctance she had agreed. For all his morbid and, frankly, concerning level of indifference towards killing his fellow man, the cape had been a genuinely pleasant and agreeable personality in the time between her finding him standing over the body of Hookwolf and Armsmaster taking over looking after the man while inside the PRT base. Mentally, she mourned that she had been _so close_ to heading back to the Rig before Armsmaster had messaged her, but duty called and she was obligated to answer.

Pushing the door open with a slight trepidation, Hannah found Six lounging in a chair, fiddling with the device strapped to his arm, his feet propped on the table. He turned to watch her as the door opened.

"Oh, hey there… Miss Militia?"

She nodded, putting on as friendly an expression as she could.

"Yes, that's me. It's good to see you again, Six."

Well. For a given definition of 'good', at least. Good to see he hadn't killed anyone else yet.

"Armsmaster asked me to keep you under watch until he finishes his preparations. Have you put any thought into joining the PRT?"

"Joining? Didn't really know that was an option," Six grunted, "I mean, I guess. I dunno."

"Well, I could give you a tour of the PRT HQ then." Hannah nodded agreeably. The current plan of 'distract him with small talk until Armsmaster is ready' was already rapidly falling apart. "Maybe I could convince you to join up?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Six's feet dropped to the floor as he rose to full height. He wasn't particularly tall, Hannah noted, maybe a couple inches over five and a half feet, but he had a presence that set her on edge. It reminded her of her childhood, when you could never tell whether your 'squad leader' was going to shoot someone just for lagging behind, or because they fell asleep at their post.

Shaking her head to clear it, she looked back at Six, who stood next to the door expectantly. She waved him out, following behind him before leading him down the hall.

"I assume Armsmaster hasn't given you the typical PRT recruitment speech, then, so let me be first to say I hope you'll consider joining up." Turning to smile at Six, she gestured forward. "Right now, we're in the PRT Headquarters, though if you do join up, you'll likely be put on the Rig, out in the Bay."

"Oh yeah, that big thing out on the water? I was wondering what that was."

"Yes. Although this is the headquarters for the PRT, the Rig acts as the Protectorate's own headquarters. I'd offer to give you a tour, but I doubt Armsmaster would appreciate it."

"Yeah," Six grunted, "The guy seems like a bit of a hardass."

"Well… You wouldn't be wrong," Hannah chuckled, "But you didn't hear that from me."

Six nodded in understanding.

"So, anyway, what's the PRT anyway? I've heard people tossing the name around, but I still don't know what the hell it means."

"PRT stands for the Parahuman Response Team." Hannah said, somewhat baffled. "I'm surprised you agreed to come here, if you don't even know who we are."

"Eh," Six shrugged, "You guys seem alright. Figured I may as well play nice for the time being. Also, what the hell is a Parahuman? You mean like Mutants?"

Hannah frowned.

"...I've heard that term used to describe Parahumans before, but when it was, it was always meant as an insult."

"Really?" Six hummed. "Why would _that_ insult anyone? They were human, now they aren't. That makes 'em a mutant. Nothing offensive about it."

"Some people just don't like to be thought of as different," Hannah admitted. "There are some Case-53's especially that can get… _touchy_ about their appearances."

"Eh. To each their own, or whatever," Six shrugged, "Hey, where _are_ we going, anyway?"

Hannah smiled beneath her bandanna, silently typing in the code to unlock the bulky metal door ahead of them.

Slowly, it slid open, and the pair entered a pristine firing range, PRT standard issue service rifles racked along the wall to one side.

"I noticed that your power seemed to be tied to firearms, like mine." Hannah said, her weapon shifting to glowing green replica of the PRT rifles. "I figured you might like a chance to show off, maybe compare our abilities?"

Six stood silently, gawping at her hand. It went on long enough that Hannah was beginning to feel self-conscious before Six seemed to remember how to speak.

" _...yeah-_ I mean- Wait, what? Powers?"

"Yes. I assumed that you made use of so many different weapons because they're related somehow to your power, aren't they?"

"I… Guess?" Six shrugged helplessly. "I mean, I'm pretty good with a gun, if that's what you're getting at. Can't manifest 'em out of green light like that, though."

"I'd be more surprised if you could," Hannah chuckled, "Anyway, don't be shy. Looks like we're the only ones in here right now, so feel free to cut loose a bit."

Six looked up and down the range's empty stalls, shrugging indifferently.

"Yeah alright."

He dug into his jacket, pawing over several… _somethings_ , though Hannah couldn't see what they were.

" _Lesse here,"_ She heard Six muttering to himself, _".357… Got shitloads of that… .45-70? Nah, trying to keep those saved up… Ah-ha!"_

With a flourish of his coat, Six pulled out a clearly custom made pistol with snakeskin grips. A Model 1911, if Hannah's instincts were spot on, and they almost always were when it came to guns; a side effect of her power, she supposed.

She whistled appreciatively.

"That's quite an impressive gun you've got there. Customized it yourself?"

"Nah, it was a gift from a friend. I helped him out with some… problems, and he gave it to me as a thanks, I guess." Six held the gun up to the light as if appraising it, his voice low. "Or… Maybe it was a message: that he didn't need it anymore; finally learned to control that fire in his soul…"

He leveled the pistol at the target downrange, tensing for a fraction of a second before letting out a rapid fire burst of shots. Before the first casing could even hit the floor, the slide had locked back, the magazine spent.

"Or maybe he just had an identical backup that he decided to give me." Six shrugged indifferently. "Graham can be a bit of an… _acquired taste,_ so it could be either, honestly."

Hannah blinked owlishly. Turning to look downrange, she saw that the target dummy Six had shot sported six clean holes where the face would be. She turned back to Six, who had started inspecting the pistol.

"Impressive," She finally breathed, "You're a lot better than _'pretty good'_ , Six. Think you could do that again?"

"Sure." Six shrugged, dropping the empty magazine from the gun and sliding a fresh one in all in one smooth motion. "Want me to go for the same target, or a different one?"

"...Try six different ones." Hannah finally decided, gesturing at the line of targets. "One bullet each."

Six grunted, amused, before turning to face her.

"Tell you what, why don't we make this interesting?"

Hannah raised one eyebrow.

"I don't think there's a single person in Vegas who doesn't like a good wager, and I'm certainly not any different."

Six slapped down a pile of dollar bills, in various denominations. There were ones, fives, tens, even a couple twenties; around two hundred dollars, total.

"Let's see who's the better shooter, Miss _'Conjures Guns Out of Thin Air'_."

Hannah grinned, her weapon shifting into competition modified 1911. She had a couple hundred she always kept on her person, just in case, and this would be a good chance to see just what Six could do.

"Very well then, Courier Six," She snickered, "I accept your challenge."

* * *

Amy yawned as she shuffled out the front doors of Brockton Bay General. Another eight-hour shift, another night of guilt over everyone she hadn't been able to get around to.

She felt her phone buzz. Probably Victoria, wondering where she was.

Pulling her phone out to text her sister a response, Amy realized that it wasn't Victoria's number the text had come from.

It was the PRT's hotline. Usually they only used that when there were injured heroes that needed her healing. She hadn't heard any EMTs rushing out, though, and she doubted that there had been a cape fight with zero civilian casualties.

 _Panacea. Require your skills PRTHQ. Please respond ASAP. -Armsmaster._

Amy blinked. It was an odd request, certainly. Not the first, though. There was that time he had wanted to consult her about the feasibility of replacing large portions of his body with Tinkertech, so as to remove his need for sleep and other _'inefficiencies'_.

Sighing, Amy texted a quick response. Then she sent Victoria a message explaining the change in plans. Vicky had, naturally, asked the same questions Amy had asked herself, and Amy had sent her a succinct answer explaining that she knew all of _fuck_ and _all_ what Armsmaster needed her for.

Not in those exact words, obviously, but the sentiment was there.

Stifling another yawn, Amy went back inside to find a seat in the warmer waiting room while she waited for Victoria to arrive.

* * *

 **Another chapter with good turnaround time. Who's got two thumbs and is feeling good about himself? This guy!  
That aside, I ended up deciding to split this chapter into two because it was getting pretty lengthy and I still had a fair bit left to write for this part. Things are happening now, Armsmaster's got ideas, and Six is starting to suspect that things are not as they seem. Sort of. He's a go with the flow kinda guy.  
Next chapter: The truth all comes out!  
(Probably. Unless this whole part turns out to be even bigger than my revised estimates.)**


	9. Chapter 7

**Oof. Been a while, hasn't it?  
Enjoy?**

* * *

"Alright, Ames. PRT building ahoy. You want me to stick around, or will you be here a while?"

Amy looked up at the PRT headquarters, the chilly wind nipping at her face.

"You can just follow me inside," She finally decided, "Hopefully I can take care of whatever Armsmaster needs and we can be out of here real quick. Barring that, I'm sure _Dean_ won't mind keeping you company, if he's here."

"Yeah, I guess..." Vicky muttered, following her sister inside. Checking in at the front desk with practiced motions, the two found seats while they waited for Armsmaster to arrive.

"Sooo…. What d'you think Armsmaster wanted you for at this hour?"

"I dunno." Amy grunted, pulling out a book she kept with her for just such an occasion, on the rare chance the hospital didn't have anything they needed her to heal. Vicky sighed.

"Ames, please; you've been acting weird for weeks now, ever since you met that 'Courier' guy. Will you please talk to me?"

Amy looked up, surprised, at Victoria's concerned expression.

"How did you know about that?"

"Saw it on PHO. Someone caught the aftermath your little freakout or whatever on camera."

Amy's eyes went wide.

" _What!?"_ She hissed, grabbing her sister. _"Why didn't you tell me?"_

"I didn't want to pry, at the time." Vicky replied innocently, "You wouldn't talk to me about it, so I figured you just needed a bit of space, but it's been almost a month now. C'mon, Ames. Trust me."

Amy said nothing, staring into her sister's eyes. She… How did she even put it? Ever since she had caught a glimpse of Courier Six's biology, she had been having ideas. Improvements on the human body for stronger bones, thicker skin, more efficient organs, all sorts of little mutations to the human genome. But what could she do with them? It wasn't like she could just go out and start giving people improvements left and right, eventually somebody would notice; and when they did, they'd inevitably start to ask the obvious questions.

' _I thought you could only heal people.'_

' _Why didn't you do this before?'_

' _If you've always been able to do this, what else have you been keeping from us?'_

No.

Courier Six wasn't just a disturbing example of what she _could_ do, if she really cut loose; he was an example of the line she could _never_ cross.

For everyone's safety.

"It's… complicated." She finally said. "I'll tell you about it later, once we get home."

Vicky nodded slowly, mollified.

"Thank you, Amy. Don't forget, we're sisters; I'll always be here for you."

Amy wrapped her sister in a light hug.

"Thanks Vicky. Me too."

Settling back into their seats, Amy and her sister spent the next several minutes in a pleasant silence, a far cry from the thick tension minutes ago. When Armsmaster finally arrived in the lobby, carrying a thick folder, he seemed tense, in way.

"Panacea, Glory Girl. Thank you for responding so quickly, despite the late hour."

"Eh, it's fine," Amy shrugged, "I was getting ready to head home anyway, so it wasn't too much of an issue."

He nodded, guiding them into an elevator. As the doors closed behind them, Victoria fidgeted anxiously, her barely concealed curiosity still not enough to catch Armsmaster's attention.

"...So," She finally said, "It's probably not my business, but what did you need Panacea here _for_ so urgently, anyway?"

Armsmaster looked up as the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open.

"Earlier this evening, we managed to convince a… new cape on the scene to come in to potentially discuss recruitment to the Protectorate. During the meeting, however, he made several outlandish claims with absolute conviction; as far as I or my technology can tell, he has been telling the truth. I have compiled a short list of tests I needed Panacea's help with that should allow us to either prove or disprove those claims beyond a reasonable doubt."

With that, he handed Amy a small packet, which she proceeded to leaf through, frowning.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, but a lot of these tests don't seem particularly… specialized; a lot of this is stuff you could do yourself." She finally said, noting how Victoria shot a glare at the Protectorate hero. "Blood tests, mostly; there's a few other strange ones, though. _Examination of bone marrow?_ " She raised one eyebrow skeptically.

"The man in question has proven… difficult to get in touch with," Armsmaster admitted. "In order to ensure we can resolve this issue in a timely manner, the Director authorized me to enlist your aid. We'll make sure New Wave is reimbursed for the inconvenience."

Amy grunted, shrugging indifferently. _Fair enough,_ she supposed.

"Hey, where are we going?" Amy turned to Armsmaster with a quizzical look. "I'm pretty sure this isn't the way to the Medical Bay."

"No, it isn't. Miss Militia has informed me that she is currently in the shooting range with the cape. We'll be meeting them there."

The three of them pressed on in silence for a time, turning the corner to face the range entrance when Vicky piped up.

"Hey, I just realized," She said, "You never told us who this new cape is."

Armsmaster paused, and Amy caught the way his jaw tightened.

"Yes. I didn't want to concern the both of you unnecessarily. Assault and Battery informed me of your encounter with the cape 'Courier Six' earlier this month, however-"

Armsmaster was interrupted by a staccato series of explosions from behind the range's blast doors as the lights flickered slightly. The three of them froze, and Armsmaster quickly brought a hand to his helmet, likely keying a radio.

"Miss Militia, report!"

He stood motionless, scowling. After a moment, his hand dropped, moving to the halberd holstered on his back.

"She's unresponsive; I'm assuming the worst." He muttered, extending the weapon to its full length. "Glory Girl, you protect Panacea. I'll take point."

Vicky nodded, though her expression was thunderous.

" _Did you just say that 'Courier' guy was here?"_ She hissed. _"The same guy that you just admitted that my sister specifically told you how messed up he made her?"_

"I was… unaware of the exact details regarding the encounter." Armsmaster grunted, creeping towards the doors. "I believed that Panacea would be able to overcome any lingering aversion without undue trouble."

" _Well what if you thought wrong!?"_

" _Vicky,"_ Amy whispered, _"Not that I don't appreciate you coming to my defense here, but maybe save it for another time?"_

She nodded toward the doors, where Armsmaster had already taken a position as he waited to put in his entry code.

Vicky looked at the doors, then back at Amy, conflicted.

" _Fine,"_ She sighed, _"But we're not done talking about this."_

Armsmaster grunted noncommittally, his hand hovering over the keypad.

"Ready?"

Vicky nodded, crouched in a ready stance, and Amy decided to take a step back from the door. She wouldn't be any use in a potential fight; she'd just stay back and help clean up the aftermath, as usual. As Armsmaster began to type in his access code, the heavy blast doors clicked, rolling back on their own. Amy stifled a cough as the scent of smoke and sulfur wafted out, followed by a pair of voices.

" _What on earth were you-"_ A voice Amy recognized as Miss Militia's was cut off by a hacking cough. _"What were you thinking?"_

"Admittedly," Another, more gravelly, male voice answered, one Amy also recognized with growing horror, "I probably could have thought that through a bit better."

Amy, her sister, and Armsmaster all stood stock still as Courier Six himself shuffled past the three, supporting a stumbling Miss Militia.

"In my defense, though, I'm not used to fighting inside like that. Most of the buildings I fight in can't really be described as _'enclosed spaces'_ , even in the loosest definition of the word."

Six set the heroine down against the wall, laying her in a sitting position. She leaned back, blinking slowly and holding her head with one hand.

"Thanks," She grunted, "I'll be fine. Just need to see Panacea real quick."

"That girl that heals people? Isn't she supposed to be, like, at the hospital? Seems kinda far away."

"She's right behind you."

Amy watched as Six froze, slowly turning from Miss Militia to see the trio of Armsmaster, Glory Girl, and herself staring silently at him.

For a moment, they just stared at each other; Amy with something verging on fear, and Six with whatever inscrutable expression he had on under his mask.

"Uh," He finally said, "I can explain?"

" _Please. Do."_ Armsmaster ground out, his grip tightening on his halberd.

"Alright, so Miss Militia here and I were back in the range back there; shooting guns and having a good time, you know. Anyway, she was showing me all those weapons she could just make out of thin air or whatever, and I was understandably impressed, 'cuz holy shit, right? So she asked me what I had, and I pulled _this baby_ out." Six patted the massive green rocket launcher now slung across his back; it looked somewhat compact, as far as Amy knew, though still rather unwieldy. "She asked me what it was, and I told her it was called a 'Red Glare'. It's a pun, cuz it shoots rockets, and y'know, _rocket's red glare_. Geddit?"

Six snickered beneath his mask, and Armsmaster's frown only tightened.

"How does demonstrating your weapon translate to whatever caused Miss Militia's current injuries, Six?"

"Right, that," Six continued, "So, while I was showing it off, she asked me what it was, what it did, how strong it was, that sort of thing. And then _I_ , being the absolute genius I was, decided to _show_ her. Instead of just, say, telling her."

Six cradled his head in one hand, muttering.

" _God_ damn _am I a fuckin' dumbass..._ Anyway, you can see how that turned out," He gestured to Miss Militia, "So, uh, note to self, don't use rocket launchers indoors anymore."

Armsmaster stared silently for a moment, mouth set in a thin line. Finally, he nodded with a faint sigh.

"Very well. I'll have to request that you please _never_ do that again, Six."

"Yeah, no argument there," Six shook his head, "I'm still feeling that blast myself. _Eugh_."

Grunting, Armsmaster turned to Amy.

"Panacea. Would you mind healing Miss Militia?"

She nodded.

"Sure thing. Give me a second."

Taking Six's place next to the Heroine, Amy held up one had in front of her eyes, waving it back and forth to gauge her response. It wasn't great.

"Miss Militia, do I have permission to heal you?"

The woman turned to face her slowly, taking a moment to process the simple question.

"Panacea? Ah, yes, please."

Taking her hand, Amy gave Miss Militia's biology a quick once over. She couldn't help but cringe slightly.

"Soft tissue barotrauma, especially in the inner ear, mild concussion… I can't fix that, but," Amy stood up, wiping her hands off on her cloak out of habit, "everything else is fixed. Nothing else I can do except recommend rest and time to heal naturally."

Armsmaster nodded.

"Good enough. Thank you-"

"Wait, you can't heal concussions?"

The pair turned to Six, who had pulled out a strange looking syringe, injecting it into his neck with a pneumatic hiss.

"Seems like kind of a serious caveat for someone calling themself 'Panacea'."

"What, and _you_ can do better?" Vicky growled, slipping herself in the space between Amy and Six.

"Yes." Six held up a syringe exactly like the one he had just injected himself with. "Stimpak. You seriously don't have them? They aren't exactly uncommon; here, let me-"

Armsmaster put out a hand to keep Six back as he tried to kneel next to Miss Militia once more.

"I can't allow you to dose a Protectorate hero with an untested Tinkertech drug."

"Untested?" Six scoffed. "Buddy, I've probably used a few hundred or so of these things the past year or two, and I'm fine. I don't think you can test something much more than that."

"Regardless, there may be side effects you are unaware of."

"Fine, fine." Six shrugged. "Your funeral."

Standing back up, he brushed his coat down absently.

"So, uh… I feel like I'm missing some details here. What are the misses 'Touches-People-and-Screams' and 'Break-My-Legs-First-Ask-Questions-Later' doing here?"

Amy turned to look at Vicky. Her sister looked away guiltily. Amy grimaced at the implication.

"I originally intended to make use of Panacea's power to verify your claims regarding your history by checking for symptoms of radiation exposure." Armsmaster answered. "However, I am reconsidering the idea, seeing as you seem to have a tendency to cause chaos wherever you go."

Six chuckled bashfully, shrugging.

"What can I say? I'm a bit of a wildcard."

Armsmaster did not respond.

"Beyond that," Six continued, "I'm not sure I want to incur _her_ wrath again." Six pointed at Victoria. "On account of the whole, you know, _'breaking my legs'_ thing."

 _Oh my god Victoria why?_

Amy facepalmed. Why hadn't her sister mentioned this?

Wait. Obviously she wouldn't mention it. Amy let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Dammit Vicky."

"I thought he was a villain!" Her sister defended.

"You still shouldn't have confronted him alone! What the hell did you do?"

"I would also like to know what exactly happened," Armsmaster interjected, "As, I'm sure, would your parents, Glory Girl."

Victoria stared at him, betrayed.

"Do you guys still need me here, or…?"

All three of them turned back to Six, who stood awkwardly in the middle of the hall.

"Not that I'm not enjoying the show or anything, but do I still need to be here for this?"

"If possible, I would still like Panacea to confirm your story." Armsmaster turned to face her. "However, I understand if you would prefer not to, given the apparent trauma of your last encounter."

Amy looked at him, then over to Six. His biology was outright horrifying, from a doctor's point of view. The biologist in her, though, was curious. Six was, in a word, different: He was new, _interesting._ As messed up as he was, Amy couldn't stop thinking about the things his biology had shown her.

"I-I'm fine. I can do it."

"Ames-" Vicky started.

"It's fine, Vicky. I was just… caught off guard the first time. Now that I know what's coming, I'll be ready. I'll do it."

Armsmaster nodded, his lips quirked up ever so slightly.

"Good. Let's escort Miss Militia to the infirmary, and then we can finally put an end to the events of this evening."

Amy nodded, following behind him as Armsmaster bent over to help Miss Militia up and began supporting her as they began to walk back towards the elevator. Six followed behind them, and Amy followed behind him, though she noticed Vicky's none-too-subtle positioning of her body between the two of them. Amy wasn't sure if it was particularly necessary, but she appreciated the thought nonetheless.

As they all piled into the elevator, her sister vigilantly kept her body firmly between the two of them, even as it left her smooshed between the two of them due to the size of the elevator.

" _Hey Vicky,"_ Amy half whispered; not like there was much point in trying to be subtle on an elevator. _"I don't think you're fooling anyone."_

" _Don't care."_ She grumbled. _"You don't have to do this."_

"Yeah, kid, I'm with your sister on this one."

Three heads turned to face the trench-coated cape.

"What? She's right. And I'm not just saying that because I don't want my legs broken again."

Vicky whined pitifully.

"I said I'm sorry, god! When will you stop bringing that up?"

"When it stops being funny to watch you react, probably," Six snickered, "Besides, I deserve this. It's not like it's actually hurting you or anything."  
Victoria groaned, burying her face in her hands. Amy sympathized with her sister, honestly, but she'd be lying if she said it wasn't likely for the better for the girl to experience the consequences of her actions like this.

Maybe then Amy wouldn't have to spend so much time covering up for her.

The rest of the trip passed in relative silence, save for the occasional quip from Six, _("You need any help with that, Armsmaster? I'd be happy to help you carry that load with my two not-broken legs.")_ , followed by an increasingly aggravated groan from Vicky.

By the time they actually arrived in the infirmary, Amy was confident she wasn't the only one nearing her wits' end. After passing Miss Militia off to one of the medics, Armsmaster led the three of them to a bench in an empty section.

"All joking aside, I _am_ serious that you don't have to do this, kid." Six grunted, heaving himself up on the bed, which creaked ominously under the weight. "You seemed pretty shaken up last time, and the last thing I need on my conscience is 'Permanently traumatized a teenage girl'."

"I'll be fine," Amy assured to herself as much as anyone else, "Like I said, I know what I'm getting into this time."

"Alright kid, if you insist…" Six sighed, pulling off his glove and holding out his hand. "You said you need skin contact or whatever, right? There you go."

Amy nodded, reaching out tentatively to grab his hand once more. As their hands brushed together, Amy saw Six's biology once more, in all its uncanny glory. Amy couldn't help herself as she let out a small gasp at the scale of changes to his body.

"Ames? You still alright?" Vicky's voice was all serious.

"I'm fine, it's just… I still can't believe you're still alive, Six, let alone moving." She turned to Armsmaster. "His brain, spine, and heart are all missing. They look like they've been replaced with Tinkertech equivalents, though my power won't tell me what they do beyond that."

Armsmaster nodded gravely. Vicky looked a little green. Amy looked deeper into Six's biology, peering into his very genetics.

"...Holy shit. He's literally not human."

* * *

 **Muahaha, now you have to wait for another update to resolve this cliffhanger.  
Anyway, sorry about the time between updates this time. I'll just leave it at College, and I think you guys can put the rest together. Blech.  
Maybe the next update'll be out quick, maybe not. I'm wrapping up a (relatively) major assignment in one class that's taken the bulk of my writing time (The other part being taken up by Warframe), so it's anyone's guess whether that'll be replaced by more work, or if things'll smooth out from here.**


	10. Chapter 8

The examination room was silent for several moments. Vicky stared open mouthed, and Armsmaster had a tight frown, clearly confused.

"Explain. Is he a Case 53?"

"...No. At least, I don't think so," Amy murmured, "Every Case 53 I've ever worked on has been obviously inhuman. Their DNA is so alien that nobody would ever mistake it for a normal person's. Six's DNA, though, it's… _similar_ to human, but not. It's almost uncanny."

"So is he or isn't he a human?"

"It's not that simple. Somebody give me their hand, I need something to compare it to."

Tentatively, Victoria held out her hand as Amy grasped it.

"...Yeah, that's about what I expected. I think." She muttered, opening her eyes again. "Six's biology is clearly not human, even discounting the obvious. There's some serious variations in his DNA, by human standards."

"How different is he, exactly?" Armsmaster sat forward, intrigued. "At least, as compared to a normal human?"

"The math's a little complicated, but I think the genetic variation between any two normal humans only varies by a few tenths of a percent or so. Take any two random humans, and they'd still have a ninety-nine point... _something_ percent in common with each other. Six and Victoria here have…" Amy's face screwed up in calculation. "Maybe… ninety, ninety-five percent? I don't exactly have a calculator, so it's a rough estimate. Still, he's definitely not a normal human."

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely. It's actually pretty amazing just seeing what's different and how it's different," Amy hmmed thoughtfully, "My first thought is that this is the work of some sort of Biotinker, but the only ones that come to mind that could do this are Blasto and Bonesaw, and it obviously wasn't them, seeing as how he's too alive to have met Bonesaw and the rest of the Nine, and I'm pretty sure Blasto wouldn't have any way to access these sort of mechanical augmentations."

Armsmaster scowled as he jotted down notes on a clipboard.

"Anything else relevant?"

"Six's mutations seem to be focused on increasing his body's resilience to disease and sickness, among other things: If I had to guess, I'd say he's probably the least likely person in this building to develop cancer in his lifetime. Or ever."

"That's it?"

"...Maybe," Amy admitted, "Genetics isn't as simple as 'one base pair, one trait'. Most of them code to multiple things, based on a combination of several pairs, and I can't say for sure what some of these do without seeing them in action; they aren't anything I've seen in humans before. Even besides that, my power works with living things, not mechanical; it can't tell me anything about what all this tinkertech does: Hell, I only know that the parts replacing his brain, heart, and spine are doing it because there's holes that look like those parts in the exact same places as what they're replacing. There's a whole bunch of other bits that I only have vague, if any ideas what they do..."

Amy trailed off, slightly embarrassed. She wasn't a Tinker, and as such wasn't susceptible to 'Tinker Fugues', but that didn't mean she couldn't get plain old wrapped up in a fascinating problem.

Thankfully, Armsmaster seemed to understand her rambling enough to get the gist. Victoria, on the other hand… _Didn't._

"It occurs to me," Six finally interrupted, "You could just ask the guy with all the implants what his implants do."

Amy paused, looking up at Six.

He shrugged.

"I dunno. Just saying."

"Calling them implants implies you acquired them voluntarily." Armsmaster murmured.

"I did. _Mostly._ The whole 'Heart, Spine, and Brain' thing was kind of forced on me by the Brains, but I got the rest myself."

Six shifted uncomfortably.

"Speaking of getting treated like a piece of meat by someone with questionable ideas of what that means, you wanna join the rest of us in the real world, _Followers Junior_?"

Amy didn't realize Six had been referring to her until he was snapping his fingers right in front of her.

"Who- _What?"_ She mumbled, in a stunning display of social awareness.

"Y'know… _Followers Junior?_ Cuz you dress like one of the Followers, and you're a kid?"

Amy stared quizzically.

"...Right. _Anyway._ Did you want that list of implants now, or-?"

"Later." Armsmaster decided. "We've wasted enough time with this. Panacea, I'd like you to check Six for symptoms of long term radiation exposure: check the condition of his bone marrow, white blood cell count, and look for signs of burns consistent with exposure to high energy electromagnetic fields."

Amy nodded, closing her eyes as she peered into Courier Six's biology once more.

"I think I'm seeing what you're looking for, but…" Amy trailed off, confused. "His white cell count is normal; at least, I assume it is, but the rate of cellular death and reproduction in his entire body is way above normal. The only explanations I can think of are that he's got some sort of self-regulating full body cancer, or that something's killing the excess cells fast enough to prevent them becoming a problem."

Armsmaster nodded sagely.

"Very well. I'd need to conduct several more tests to be sure, but I believe that proves my theory beyond reasonable doubt."

"What theory?" Victoria piped up from the corner she had been sulking in ever since the discussion had moved beyond her understanding. "I'm not entirely sure what's going on here, but I heard 'radiation' and 'Tinkertech' and the last time Amy met this guy he did something that freaked her the hell out, so I think I'm entitled to be concerned about her wellbeing on her behalf here."

Armsmaster gave her as flat a look as he could convey underneath his helmet.

"I'd also like to know," Six added quietly, "If anyone cares."

Armsmaster sighed, standing up to full height.

"Very well. You'll likely need to sign an NDA anyway, considering what you already know could be considered knowledge of a Cape's secret identity, but until then you are not to mention this to anyone. Not even your family. If they take issue with that, then they can contact the Director or I themselves. Do you understand?"

Amy and her sister both nodded quickly, which Armsmaster acknowledged with a grunt.

"Very well. Earlier, Courier Six gave me a seemingly impossible story: he comes from the wasteland of the Mojave desert on the west coast of the United States, the country having been ravaged by nuclear war decades ago. Ordinarily, I would dismiss them as delusions, however Six has adamantly defended his explanation while keeping his story internally consistent. Furthermore, I detected no lies from him with regards to his story. That, combined with the evidence Panacea has revealed suggests that his story is entirely truthful, and Courier Six does indeed come from a post-nuclear America."

"But… Scion stopped all nuclear weapons testing when he arrived back in the seventies, didn't he?" Victoria objected lamely.

"He did, in this universe," Armsmaster agreed, "However, we have knowledge of the existence of alternate Earths."

"Aleph…" Amy gasped in realization. "You're saying he comes from another Earth, like Aleph?"

"Indeed," He nodded, "We know for a fact of the existence of other Earths similar to our own, Aleph being the prime example. While we cannot be sure, all of the evidence as it stands now supports this theory, that Courier Six comes from an alternate Earth that did not see the intervention of Scion, and eventually destroyed itself in a worldwide nuclear exchange."

The three of them were quiet for a moment, Amy finally turning to gauge Six's reaction. If he was at all phased by the revelation, he didn't show it.

"You seem… unimpressed." She murmured.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess interdimensional travel or whatever is pretty crazy, isn't it?" Six scratched his neck, continuing to fail to react. "In all honestly, my sense of disbelief died a long time ago. Compared to some of the shit I've seen, this doesn't even make the top five. I don't have to worry about bomb collars, or poison gas, or lobotomites, or marked men…"

Amy said nothing as Six rambled on about the horrors he had faced in his world. It occurred to her that maybe it wasn't a good thing that she was getting so indifferent to Six's general _weirdness._ Then again, that was really all it was, wasn't it? He hadn't done a fraction of the evil things as the likes of Kaiser or Lung; hell, he was downright benevolent by that measure.

"...Regardless," Armsmaster started, cutting off Six's growing rant about 'glowing blue bastards', "Now that we are aware of Courier Six's true nature, we can better take steps to assist him."

Turning to Six, Armsmaster held out his hand.

"I was told you were in possession of a device you used for teleportation?"

Six perked up immediately, reaching into his coat for the device in question.

"Oh, yeah, that's, like, the whole reason I came up here isn't it?"

Pulling out what looked like a jar of lightning with a pistol grip and trigger attached, Six set the device in Armsmaster's hands. The Protectorate hero held the device up to face, examining the strange device.

" _Interesting…"_ He murmured. _"The power required to create these sorts of arcs would be immense. Perhaps it acts as a capacitor for the device?"_

After a moment of silent contemplation, Armsmaster seemed to realize his mistake, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"I'll need to access my lab on the Rig to analyze this properly. If you'll follow me, Six." He turned to Amy and her sister. "Panacea, that's all I needed from you tonight; I appreciate the assistance. I assume you can find your own way out?"

Amy nodded wearily, grabbing her sister's arm and leading her away.

"Yeah. See you around, Armsmaster."

Tonight had been a whirlwind of revelations, about Six and his past, and despite all the ideas she had gotten, inspired by Six's strange mutations, she was exhausted.

All Amy wanted right now was a hot shower and a warm bed.

* * *

Colin ground his teeth as the security scanner's alarm blared once again. The first time had been understandable, and Six had easily relinquished his weapons to security with the promise that they would be returned later; according to him, the process was the standard MO of the casinos still operating on the Vegas Strip.

Complications, however, had soon followed. The second scan had revealed several concealed weapons Six was attempting to smuggle through security, which he added to the already sizable pile of arms and ammunition in the security office.

"What?" Six had asked, with a distinct lack of shame at the glares levelled his way. "I like to have a little insurance, you know?"

Armsmaster had assumed _that_ would be the end of that, only to be disproven moments later when the scanner's alarm blared once more, a different tone he recognized as the warning for when the device detected high amounts of ionizing radiation. He had nearly facepalmed when he realized, far too late, that _obviously_ the man from the nuclear wasteland would give off enough to background radiation to set off the highly sensitive scanners.

Resetting them to ignore Six's radioactive presence had been a simple enough job, but it still took long enough for Six to get a joke in at his expense.

At that point, Armsmaster had (rightfully so, in his opinion) assumed that there would be no further problems, having properly disarmed Courier Six, only to be proven wrong once more when the scanner flagged yet another threat. This time, however, rather than a weapon Six had managed to conceal earlier, or a spike of radiation that exceeded even the generous thresholds Colin had set, the scanner instead identified the issue as _chemical_ one.

"Oh _yeah!"_ Six chuckled in a self-deprecating way, once Colin had questioned him about it. "It's probably this, then."

Out of his coat came a small glass jar filled with a reddish-brown gunk that was uncomfortably reminiscent of congealed blood. On the jar was a label that simply read _'Cloud Residue'_ in scrawled text. Gingerly, Six had handed the bottle to Colin, followed by a half dozen more.

"Careful. This shit'll melt your lungs and rot your skin." He had warned.

Colin was not eager to test the claim. Thankfully, it was without too much difficulty that he was able to acquire a large enough Biohazard container to secure the jars in, passing it off to the guards on duty to lock it in secure storage alongside Six's other weapons.

At that point, Colin hoped, _prayed,_ even, that security would finally pronounce Six 'clean', and that they could finally get into his lab. Alas, it was not to be, and Colin had to refrain from slamming his head against the wall as the scanner identified _yet another_ security breach.

' _WARNING'_ , The alarm had blared, _'BIOLOGICAL CONTAMINATION DETECTED'_

Colin sighed. They were never going to get in at this rate.

* * *

Colin stiffly lowered himself into his chair, his jaw still tense. Getting into his lab had been… _difficult_ , as Six had managed to trip just about every security sensor on the Rig between the entrance and his lab. Admittedly, some of those weren't necessarily his fault, but that didn't make it any less aggravating.

Closing his eyes, Colin slowly breathed out through his nose, one of several breath exercises he had developed to quickly refocus himself and lower stress in dangerous situations. As the leader of the Protectorate ENE, it was imperative that he remain calm and collected in the heat of battle.

"Oh damn, that's a _really_ fucking nice axe. How much do you want for it?"

Calm, Colin. In, and out.

He opened his eyes to see Six pointing at the prototype nano-thorn halberd he had left out. It was another project that his 'grounding' had allowed him to make significant progress on, but it was still far from finished.

"The _halberd_ ," Colin replied, "Is not for sale. Even if it was, it isn't finished yet."

"Aw…"

Six slumped down, as if sulking.

"Furthermore, Protectorate policy does not allow for the dissemination of Tinkertech to non-affiliated capes, barring extenuating circumstances."

"...And what, exactly, would those circumstances be?" Six asked, perking up.

"Endbringer fights, most commonly." Colin said matter-of-factly. "There have also been rare occasions where the trade of Tinkertech was approved for other reasons, but I doubt they would apply."

Colin took the 'Transportalponder', as Six had called it, examining the casing closely. Initial disassembly of the device looked to be simple enough, just regular bolts and screws holding the metal casing together. Still, it was a given that one needed to be cautious with unknown Tinkertech; you never knew when the original owner had left a little present for anyone trying to tamper with their toys. It was best to take this slow, preferably with the assistance of someone familiar with the tech in question.

"Six, is there anything you can tell me about this device? What sort of power source does it utilize?"

"Power source?" Six cocked his head curiously. "Now that I think about it… I dunno. Never needed to recharge it or anything before, so I guess it's probably one of those microfusion breeders."

Colin blinked.

"Micro-fusion? As in _nuclear_ fusion?"

"Yeah. Those breeders don't really get a high voltage, though; they're barely above a taser in output. I prefer plain old MF Cells, personally."

" _Cells…_ " Colin's mind went into overdrive. "You mean to say that your world has developed _cold fusion_ to a degree that it can be mass produced and is commercially available?"

"Yeah, I guess. I got a shitload of 'em right here."

Reaching into his coat, Six pulled out a handful of cylindrical, yellow devices, piling them on the table with rapid-fire metallic pings. Colin grabbed one, looking closer at the text wrapped around the center of the device.

 _NO. 1040 MFC - CAPACITY: 1040.8 VDC - WARNING: MAY EXPLODE IF DISPOSED OF IN FIRE_

"I see…" He murmured. "Would you be willing to leave some of these cells here for study? I can arrange for monetary compensation by the PRT for them, if you'd like."

Six was quiet for a moment.

"Would you trade that axe for them?"

Colin's eye twitched.

"The _Halberd_ is not for sale."

"You sure? I've got a Proton Axe downstairs with the rest of my stuff. I _am_ willing to trade it."

If anyone asked, Colin would deny that he was tempted to accept the offer then and there.

" _The Halberd,"_ He reiterated, " _Is not for sale. Nor am I willing to trade it."_

"Feh. Fine." Six blew a raspberry. "You can keep the cells, I've got more than I know what to do with, anyway. Call it a favor."

Colin nodded, relaxing slightly.

"Thank you, Six. Now, is there any other information you can give me on this 'Transportalponder'?"

The rest of the night passed in a blur, Colin posing questions to Six as he analyzed the device as best he could. It was certainly an interesting device, and Colin felt confident, when the sun finally rose, that he could soon begin to disassemble the device to understand just how it worked. In truth, it had been a rather enjoyable night, having spent the majority analyzing a new piece of technology. Sure, it didn't quite match the rush of euphoria whenever he finished his latest device, having managed to squeeze an additional 3% efficiency out of his latest creation, but the rush of ideas that came with any new piece of Tinkertech was always enjoyable. Those Micro-fusion cells especially had given him cause to revisit several abandoned projects. With morning, however, came two important realizations: Firstly, Director Piggot needed to be informed about Six's nature as soon as she reported in; and secondly, Courier Six had yet to actually sign on with the Protectorate.

* * *

 **Oof. Another chapter with a not great turnaround... Sorry folks. School and stuff, you know how it is. The light at the end of the tunnel is visible though, so that's good.**

 **Not too happy with the chapter, frankly it was probably a bit more exposition-y and filled with pointless sci-fi jargon than it needed to be, but it is what it is, and I just want to move on from the 'Six's first PRT visit' arc as a whole. I spent probably half of the writing time of this chapter researching genetics and the effects of radiation sickness to get Amy's claims accurate, but frankly I have no idea what a human that's evolved to better resist radiation would be like, so I made up something that seemed suitably accurate. Feel free to call bullshit on me there.**

 **On a related note, I want to thank you guys, genuinely and truly, for your support so far. I was looking through some of the statistics for this story the other day, and what I saw was, frankly, amazingly humbling. I think Cazador sits on the fifth or sixth page of Worm fanfics on SB sorted by "first message likes", and while that's not much compared to, say, Constellations, it's still damn good for me, a writing hobbyist. I know I tend to project a bit of a 'devil-may-care' attitude at times, but I do read and consider every message and review, even the critical ones, and I appreciate them all. Thanks guys. :)**


	11. Chapter 9

Emily Piggot arrived to the PRT Headquarters in a foul mood. That was not to say that she was not typically in a mood one could describe as foul, only that her current mood was even worse than usual. The source of this particular mood, as it typically was, was Parahumans. More specifically, one particular parahuman who was currently sitting just outside her office, who had managed to single handedly serve her a steaming hot plate of _bullshit_ by killing _Hookwolf_ of all people.

Oh sure, it couldn't have happened to a better asshole; _she_ certainly wouldn't be shedding any tears over his grave. The problem was how the Empire would inevitably react: Hookwolf was one of their heavy hitters, not to mention relatively high up in the gang's hierarchy. His death was going to cause chaos across the city, and it fell to Piggot to once again pick up the pieces of yet another short-sighted _hero_ too preoccupied with personal glory to see the consequences of their actions.

That wasn't even counting the _other_ major issue Armsmaster had presented her with. An honest-to-god dimensional refugee. Or possibly an ambassador, depending on how one looked at it. Either way, it was entirely unprecedented, which raised the question of how to proceed. The first logical step was to convince him to join up with the Protectorate, possibly under a similar program as the one they used for Case 53s, modified appropriately. Take away the amnesia and the monstrous appearance, and Courier Six may as well have been one. Failing that, however, Piggot still could _not_ lose Six here, only for him to join up with any of the gangs. He had shown both a capability _and_ a willingness to kill, and the last thing she needed was to trade Hookwolf for someone _just_ as homicidal and even _more_ deadly.

"Let me make sure I have everything straight," She grunted, "This cape, Courier Six, is from an alternate dimension similar to Earth Aleph where the entire planet devolved into nuclear warfare?" When Colin made no move to interrupt, she continued. "Courier Six himself comes from a city-state formed out of the remains of Las Vegas, and thus represents not only his entire Earth, but this _New Vegas_ as well, not to mention a third organization, made up of rogue tinkers going by the name _'The Big Empty'_ , who possess specializations including, but not limited to mass producible directed energy weapons, advanced levels of genetic engineering, and the ability to remove and replace vital organs, the brain included. Did I miss anything?"

"No ma'am," He replied, "That covers the important aspects of Six's nature as best I know."

"Very well then." Piggot sighed, taking a long gulp of her coffee. "Send him in. Let's see if we can salvage anything of this mess."

Colin nodded, stepping outside. For a moment, her office was quiet, until the Cape of the evening himself entered. The man wasn't much, now that she had chance to look at him properly. A little on the shorter side, scruffy; he didn't strike her as a killer in and of himself. His costume, on the other hand, certainly fit the bill.

" _Courier Six,"_ She grunted, "How… _nice_ to finally meet you."

"Good to meet you too? I guess?" Six shrugged. "I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure I like how you guys are so interested in me. Last time someone took this kind of interest in me _personally_ , I ended up walking through the Divide. Not a fun place to be, let me tell you."

Emily raised one eyebrow, curious, but set her questions to the side for now.

"Courier Six, let me ask you; do you know what my job is?"

Six cocked his head, thinking.

"Well, if you want to get all serious about it, I'm guessing you're the boss here. Underequipped and outnumbered, too, given what I've seen, but you seem like a pretty decent person trying to do what you can anyway."

"That's… Rather astute of you, _flattery notwithstanding_ ," She muttered, "Tell me, how did you come to that conclusion?"

"Well, you're obviously the one in charge here, since _Armsmaster_ asked me to come meet you, and he seems pretty in charge, so if you're in charge of him, you must be pretty high up on the food chain. That said, considering what I've seen, you obviously command more than a bit of respect, probably more than General Oliver ever did, at least. Not so sure about the tactics though; looks like old 'Wait-and-see' could learn a thing or two from you, seeing how many jackasses I've had to put down in the past month or two. Even the worst parts of the NCR didn't have this many raiders."

Piggot scowled.

"Then how would you suggest we deal with the gangs?"

"Shoot 'em." Six said matter-of-factly. "I mean, obviously not all of these guys deserve to die, but there has to be a point where you just say 'fuck it' and shoot these guys on sight. Even the NCR's not afraid to shoot a criminal in the head if he's more trouble than he's worth. Any _good_ lawman will tell you the same thing; good faith only goes so far."

"And then, once we've killed every criminal who can be killed, what do we do with the ones who can't?"

"No such thing. Just means that you need a bigger gun. You guys act like it was a big thing that I killed that Vulpes-wannabe guy," Six tapped the wolf mask strapped to his helmet, "But all I did was find the right weapon. Took me a few tries, but he was still a man under all that metal."

"...Ignoring the fact that your capabilities are vastly different to those of the standard trooper," Piggot finally said after a lengthy silence, "How do you propose we deal with the inevitable fallout? You do realize that your killing of Hookwolf _will_ have repercussions, correct?"

"You act like there wasn't going to be any action from these guys anyway." Six shot back. "Raiders don't stop raiding just because people pretend they aren't there. At least if you kill them, you don't have to worry about them coming back to bite you in the ass."

"And what about when those 'raiders' get too strong to defeat in a head on confrontation? As you so perceptively put it earlier, the PRT is outnumbered and outgunned, and while I am willing to concede you that point, the question remains; _do you understand the consequences of your actions tonight?_ "

"Course I do. One more asshole in the dirt. If the rest of them want to come after me, then so be it."

"Not to mention the inevitable civilian casualties as a result of growing tensions between the gangs. Believe me, Courier Six, If the only consequence of this were that you became a prime target for the gangs, I would wish you the best of luck and offer whatever support I could afford to. That said, you misunderstand just where we are; this is not a _total war_ scenario, as much as some of my colleagues might wish it were. Every decision we make has repercussions, and my job is to minimize the effect of those repercussions on the public. Make no mistake, Courier Six, people will be hurt and most likely killed as a result of your actions."

"So it's a slow death over a quick one? Sounds like the NCR alright." Six reclined slowly in his seat, leaving Emily fuming. "But anyway, _you're_ the one who called me up here, so I assume you wanted to talk about something besides why I'm wrong and you're right about how to deal with raiders and thugs."

Piggot was silent, glaring daggers at the cape before her. He could very well have been everything she disliked about the average cape; reckless, impulsive, and with no thought for the effects his actions had on others. She sighed, grabbing a stack of papers from a drawer.

"You would be correct in that assumption. As we have established, the PRT being overworked and undersupplied means that I _have_ to take advantage of any opportunity to equalize the difference that I can find, regardless of how distasteful I find it. To that end, I'm obligated to extend an offer for you to join the Protectorate. Given your particular situation, I'm sure we could establish a civilian identity for you; precedent already exists for situations similar to yours with the Case 53s, where capes appear with no background, no memory, and no way to trace their true identity. Given your lack of amnesia, that makes parts of the process much easier. However,you understand, _of course_ , that I can only extend this offer to a fully fledged member of the Protectorate."

Six stared at the papers, then back at Piggot. She got the impression that his expression was one of mild bemusement.

"You're offering all this, despite the fact that we _just_ had an argument over the best way to deal with the criminals in this city?"

"Despite my own reservations, this city is in too much trouble to turn away any potential assistance, regardless of the source," Piggot admitted, "My duty always comes before my personal feelings, _Courier Six_ ; I'd appreciate you not insult me by assuming any less again."

Six snorted.

"Fair enough; and _I'd_ appreciate it if you didn't assume I've never had to deal with the consequences of my actions. I've already had one guy hunt me down to try and make me 'answer' for the suffering my actions caused others. I know a thing or two more about consequences than you assume."

"Very well, Courier Six. So will you join us?"

"Nah."

Emily blinked.

"No?"

"Yeah."

"And why, exactly, not?"

"You said it yourself. You're underequipped and overextended. Why would I jump on a sinking ship?"

"So you intend to simply allow the city to fall into chaos, rather than work to fix it?"

"No. I'm just not tying myself down with you guys. I'm a _merc_ , first and foremost; if you pay, I'll do what you guys ask me to, but that doesn't mean I won't work for anyone else willing to pay. Getting in good with your enemy is the first step to driving a knife into their back, after all."

Emily stared Courier Six down for a moment, waiting for him to break character or change his mind, but no such change was forthcoming. She understood the plan he was outlining, absolutely. It wasn't even particularly inspired; gain the enemy's trust, then disable them with a decisive strike and steamroll over the rest before they can retaliate. Quite possibly the actual oldest trick in the book. Pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing, she took the stack of papers for joining the Protectorate from her desk, replacing them with a different stack.

"What're these?"

"These," She gestured to the stack of papers, "Are the requisite forms for the registration of an independent cape with the PRT, officially classifying you as Protectorate-affiliated Rogue. If you want to be able to claim any bounties you're entitled to, or even formally interact with the PRT on a professional level, I would suggest you fill these out. Otherwise, I will be unable to legally compensate you for services rendered."

Six leaned forward, grabbing the weighty stack of papers. After a moment of flipping through them, he looked back to Piggot.

"Alright, fair enough. What was that you were saying about bounties, though?"

"As you might imagine, the most wanted criminal capes tend to accrue a significant bounty to be rewarded upon their successful capture. In Brockton Bay especially, there are several capes that have historically proven particularly difficult to capture. As I recall, your assistance in apprehending Crusader a few weeks ago entitles you to a share of his bounty, which, while small compared to some of the others in the city, will be deposited into an account for you to access as soon as this paperwork goes through."

"Oh. Nice. What about this other guy, though?" Six tapped Hookwolf's mask. "I can't believe there wasn't a bounty out for this guy, then."

"While there was a bounty for the capture of Hookwolf, with emphasis on _capture,_ " Piggot muttered, "I am _not_ legally allowed to authorize the dispensation of bounties for dead parahumans without a kill order."

"What? _Lame._ " Six's tone was largely indifferent.

" _Indeed,"_ Emily agreed drily, "Laws were set in place to discourage bounty hunters from killing their targets extralegally, so while you won't face any legal issues, considering you were presumably acting in self-defence when you killed Hookwolf," She paused, giving Six a chance to dispute the claim, which he naturally didn't, "You also won't be awarded the bounty for his capture."

"Booo." Six groaned.

"That said, any _live_ criminals you bring into custody in the future will give you a chance to collect _their_ bounties, as well as any third party bounties they may have acquired from other sources."

"Alright then." Six sat forward, grabbing a pen out of his jacket and scribbling away in the signature boxes. "So I sign these, and then you guys pay me whenever I bring you criminals, so long as they're alive?"

"So long as they're a parahuman, and have existing bounties out for their capture, then yes. The PRT has neither the jurisdiction nor the manpower to deal with unpowered criminals."

"Fair enough. So I just sign these papers?"

"Yes."

"Alright… And _done."_

Six slid the stack of paperwork back to Piggot, and she quickly leafed through them for errors. Satisfied, she set the papers to the side.

"Very well then, Courier Six. Welcome to Brockton Bay. I'll be interested in seeing whether you succeed where the PRT has so far failed." As they shook hands, she held up a hand to stop Six. "I should also mention, since I doubt you paid the paperwork much attention; being a Protectorate associated cape also means that you have certain rules that you must follow. It does not provide you with a _get-out-of-jail-free_ card to commit crimes without penalty in the name of stopping criminals, and extralegal killing is _highly_ frowned upon by the PRT and Protectorate, except in very rare circumstances. The next time I or any of the Protectorate have to tell you, there will be penalties. Am I understood?"

"Got it." Six gave her a thumbs-up. "Don't kill people, bring the live supervillains to you and then you'll pay me per head. I think I got the gist of it."

Emily resisted the desire to massage her temples.

"Very well then, Six. Unless you've decided to change your mind regarding Protectorate membership, then I believe that was all we had to discuss. See Armsmaster on your way out, and he'll ensure you're equipped with the standard issue PRT phone, for contacting us to arrange for pickup of any criminals, as well as allowing us to contact you in the event we need you for any reason."

"Alright. I guess that's all then." Six gave her a lazy salute as he stood up. "If I may say, _Missus Director_ , I admire what you're trying to do, but the last time I saw a situation like yours, it turned out to be intentional sabotage. _Just saying."_

With that, he was out the door, leaving Emily to stew in his final words.

* * *

 **Whaaaat? Two chapters in one week? I must have committed some ancient eldritch ritual in order to write this chapter so quickly!  
Nah, I just had a lot of free time today, and typed about 70% of the chapter up in one sitting. It all just sort of flowed together well enough that I didn't have any reason to stop writing, and next thing I knew, BAM! Another 2500 words ready for publishing.  
I hope.  
** _ **Honestly**_ **, I'm not actually too confident with how I portrayed Piggot here. Do you guys think I should have made her go a little more hardline on Six, or stick with the whole "People are going to die and it's your fault" approach? I dunno. I tried to edit it as best I could to at least portray both sides as sympathetic without going into the excessive grimness problem I had in the first draft of the first few chapters and which I personally don't have much taste for in the stuff I read.  
Anyway, I was also going to originally include Piggot's debriefing of Six's existence to RCB and the rest of the PRT top brass, but this seemed like a good stopping point, so now you guys get two interludes to look forward to, instead of one.  
**


	12. Interlude 2-1

Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown stared intently at the screen before her as faces blinked into view, each one representing a different director of a different branch of the PRT. ENE's Director Piggot had called them together for a reason, and Rebecca _highly_ doubted it was because she wanted to trade small talk. Once she was confident that each branch's director has reported in, she cleared her throat, setting aside some paperwork she had been using to pass the time.

"Director Piggot," She nodded. "I understand you've called us all together to share some important information?"

"Yes, Chief Director. Given the delicacy of the situation, and the fact that we're currently trying to keep this information from spreading beyond those who need to know at the moment, I decided it would be best to brief you all face to face regarding a recent development.

Rebecca cocked an eyebrow, more than one director mimicking her curiosity at Piggot's claims.

"Really?" She said with a hint of dryness. "Well, I know you aren't one to mince words, director. Let's hear it."

Piggot grabbed a small stack of papers, shuffling them into perfect order before continuing.

"Approximately a month-and-a-half ago, the Protectorate ENE came into contact with a new cape going by the name 'Courier Six'. Three days ago, Courier Six was brought into custody after a violent confrontation with Hookwolf ended in the latter's death. I assume you are all familiar with that much?"

There was a nod of consensus. Hookwolf had always toed the line of a Kill Order, alongside several other Brockton Bay villains she could care to name. Were it not for… _Other matters_ , she would have said good riddance.

"We are." Rebecca confirmed. "I assume this 'Courier Six' is not all he seems at first glance?"

"That's correct. While our current official story is that Courier Six is a Rogue with nominal Protectorate alignment, our local Protectorate leader and Tinker, Armsmaster, claims that he may be from an alternate Earth entirely."

 _That_ elicited a wave of disbelief through the conference members, though for Rebecca herself, her only reaction was a slight widening of the eyes.

"I presume you have more evidence to support this theory than simply the say-so of one Tinker?" She asked.

"We do." Piggot nodded, panning the camera over to center on Armsmaster himself, who had evidently been standing off to the side. "Armsmaster has had far more direct contact with Courier Six than I have, so I'll allow him to explain his own findings."

"Thank you, Director Piggot." He turned, inclining his head towards Rebecca. "Chief Director, ma'am."

She nodded back.

"Go ahead, Armsmaster."

Clearing his throat, Armsmaster activated a hidden projector, painting an image of what was unmistakably a piece of Tinkertech across the wall behind him.

"Courier Six initially sought contact with the PRT for assistance in repairing this device, which according to him is intended to act as a personal teleportation device. However, due to circumstances neither he nor I have been able to discern, he seems to have been transported into an alternate universe instead."

"And what, exactly, brought you to that conclusion?"

"Multiple clues, Chief Director. First and foremost, he claimed that the current year was twenty-two-eighty-two, and that the entire planet had been consumed in nuclear war centuries ago. When presented with proof to the contrary he did not become aggressive and combative, as one would expect from someone suffering from delusions, but rather calmly presented a counterargument. Intrigued, I enlisted Panacea in performing a series of tests on his body to ascertain the veracity of his claims. What we found was… Far different from what I expected."

Rebecca leaned forward, intrigued; silent among the quiet muttering of the other directors.

"Different how?"

Armsmaster paused a moment. Rebecca noticed they way his jaw, the only exposed part of his face, occasionally twitched. Most likely, he was pulling up the files through his helmet.

"We were aware, prior to this meeting, that Courier Six had been _modified_ on a biological level to some degree. His initial meeting with Panacea, which our intelligence reports currently suggest was also his first known appearance on our Earth Bet, resulted in Panacea having a minor panic attack, ostensibly related to her ability to see the biology of others through touch."

Rebecca nodded, well aware of Panacea's abilities, not to mention the kind of things the girl had experienced. The girl had attended every Endbringer attack since triggering, and if what Rebecca herself had seen was any reference, then the things Panacea had healed ranged just about the entire spectrum of what a human could endure, and quite a bit more besides. Anything capable of throwing her for such a loop was definitely worth looking into.

"I see. Were you able to ascertain the extent of his… _Changes_?"

"I believe we were," Armsmaster nodded, "Though there were several Tinkertech implants that Panacea was unable to determine the function of. That aside, Courier Six showed evidence of heavy biological and mechanical augmentation, far beyond anything I've ever seen. The most outstanding of these were the apparent replacement of his heart, spine, and brain with Tinkertech equivalents."

The assembled PRT directors, Piggot herself excepted, went still. Even Rebecca tensed a little at the declaration.

"He also reportedly, ah… _Carries his brain with him_. In a jar. We aren't sure if this is out of necessity to maintain the connection between his brain and the rest of his body, or simply a macabre sense of sentimentality."

The line was silent, save the occasional cough, or shuffling of paper as each director tried to recompose themselves.

" _So... We've also got the Tinker Wizard of Oz to look out for, too?"_

Rebecca's eyes snapped to the woman who had just spoken. The director of PRT South flinched away slightly. She was the junior of the assembled group, having only taken the position a few months back following the previous director's retirement.

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

" _It's… You know, the story, The Wizard of Oz. The Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion. They all go looking for the Wizard to wish for a brain, a heart, and a spine."_

Interesting. The woman did have something of a point, perhaps. Maybe the result of a deranged Tinker taking their theme a little too far?

"That does bring up an interesting question, though," Rebecca muttered, "The fact that Courier Six has been subjected to such extensive modification, yet is still capable of functioning as a normal person suggests that these implants were the work of an benign Tinker of some sort, rather than the experiments of a villainous type, like Bonesaw."

"Indeed. Courier Six made reference to 'the Brains' of a group he called 'The Big Empty'. This is presumably a rogue group of Tinkers, not unlike Toybox. In the same vein, I would assume the Courier Six acts as a field agent of some type for these Tinkers, salvaging and retrieving matériel and supplies in exchange for these implants and the physical benefits they provide, amongst other things."

Rebecca leaned forward, lacing her hands together.

"Do you have any idea what sort of specializations these Tinkers have? Any names?"

"He did mention the name 'Doctor Mobius', though he made no reference to the man's specialty or abilities, beyond the implication that he was far older than one would naturally expect to live, and that he had suffered some deterioration as a result. I suspect that at least one of _'The Brains'_ created Courier Six's implants, but beyond that I was not able to learn anything useful about them."

Rebecca leaned back, deep in thought. _The Big Empty_ ; an interesting name for an interesting group of Tinkers. If they were able to actually lobotomize a parahuman without killing them, that put forward some interesting ideas. Could they remove a person's powers? Implant them in someone else? It was something to keep in mind.

"I see." She finally said. "Was there anything else you were able to find out?"

Armsmaster nodded, his face twitching.

"Yes. Based on my questioning of Courier Six, I learned that on his Earth, which I have taken to referring to as Earth Nun for the sake of simplicity, the People's Republic of China continued to exist up until the outbreak of nuclear war. This suggests that the point of divergence between Earth Bet and Earth Nun rests sometime within the last century, the 1940's at the earliest, rather than the 1980's, as with Earth Aleph. Furthermore, the lack of intervention by Scion led to increasing Cold War tensions between the East and West. I believe that this, combined with apparent resource shortages were what incited war and shaped Earth Nun into the post-nuclear wasteland Six has described it as. Furthermore, there seems to have been a divergence between the two Earths in terms of technological development, possibly related to Scion's intervention, or lack thereof. Whereas on Earth Bet, we experienced a significant technological boom as a result of the appearance of Tinkers, Earth Nun's technology seems to be, outwardly, largely outdated by our standards, often employing vacuum tubes and CRT type monitors. However, they have made massive strides in the field of nuclear physics and engineering, to the point where cold fusion is not only understood, but exists in the form of compact, mass producible power cells that are evidently extremely common."

The conference erupted into shouts for several moments, each director expressing their surprise and/or disbelief, until Rebecca held out a hand to quiet them.

"What can you tell us about these cells?" She asked. "Given your specialty, I imagine you would be the expert on the subject."

"Courier Six allowed me to take several of these 'microfusion cells' for testing, and while I believe I could improve on them, given enough time and funding, they are remarkably energy efficient, their ability to apparently be produced en masse notwithstanding. Also notable is the fact that the existence of these cells solves the primary issue plaguing current directed-energy weapons, which in turn brings into question how much of Courier Six's arsenal could be considered Tinkertech. The basic concepts behind laser directed-energy weapons has been well known for years now. It was always a matter of making the power sources portable enough to be viable as handheld weapons. Evidently, Earth Nun discovered the answer to these weapons, and I believe it would be a safe assumption that laser based weaponry is just as common as combustion based on that Earth."

Rebecca could see gears turning in several Directors' heads, and she could see why. Equipping PRT troopers with laser weapons could give them a serious new edge in encounters against parahumans, potentially allowing standard humans to become a serious threat in parahuman fights, depending on the output.

" _What about Parahuman presence?"_ Director Armstrong asked. _"We know Aleph has far less Parahumans than Bet. How does this Earth Nun compare in that regard?"_

"Parahuman presence seems to be minimal. Six claimed not to have any knowledge of parahumans, though he did mention individuals he called 'psykers', individuals with unique or otherwise unusual abilities. It may be that, much like Aleph, any parahumans that trigger on Earth Nun are weaker on average, and far fewer in number, and as such have not had nearly the same level of influence on society."

Armstrong nodded, mollified, while Rebecca thought quietly. It would most certainly be beneficial to establish a relationship with Six, and Big Empty by association.

"Given what we know of Courier Six and his abilities," She finally said, "What measures have you taken so far, Director Piggot?"

The camera panned back to the overweight woman, as serious as ever.

"For the moment, we have refrained from publishing any information about Courier Six. Given his unique nature, we've decided to refrain from making notes of his more unusual qualities in his file in the name of maintaining friendly relations; If he chooses to reveal his extra-dimensional nature to the public of his own volition, then so be it, but I don't want to alienate him by leaking that information if he decides to keep it a secret. In official documentation, we'll be classifying him as a Brute 2, Thinker 3, and Tinker 0, given his augmentations, innate abilities, and weapons respectively. We will be considering him a heroic aligned rogue, currently working as a bounty hunter of sorts: Six has mentioned being willing to work with the PRT and Protectorate as mercenary, if offered a fair price, but is unwilling to sign on entirely."

Rebecca tilted her head, making a note to green-light a boost in funding to the ENE branch.

"I see. I want you to offer him the standard PRT retainer for parahuman contractors. Increase it if necessary, I'll make sure the funds go through. I want you to make sure you get Courier Six on our side, and keep him there."

"Yes ma'am." Piggot agreed, "I'll make sure it's done."

"Good. If that's all…?" Rebecca looked around to the other directors, none of whom protested. "Very well then. This meeting is adjourned. Keep up the good work."

With that, she disconnected the call, reclining in her chair and closing her eyes, ideas and plans whirling through her mind. Six could be a very useful asset, if he proved helpful. Transplants of Parahuman powers? Augmenting any standard human into a low level brute? The possibilities were… Intriguing, if nothing else.

First things first, though. The others needed to be informed.

" _Door me."_

* * *

 **Ugggh, finally done.  
It's Finals week, Baybey! Good thing I enjoy writing to de-stress. Not like I was that stressed anyway, but eh.  
This whole chapter felt like it was just crawling on and on, going over more and more stuff, and there's probably even more I didn't put in but I should've and so on and so forth. But it's done. This was really only meant to be a review chapter anyway, so that you guys knew how much the PRT knows, how much they think they know, and so on.  
Not much else to say, really. This time next week I'll be back home, and probably doing a good bit of writing, so maybe another chapter or two.  
Will I hit reach start of canon before 2019? Does it matter? Tune in next time!**


	13. Interlude 2-2

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 **Topic: Hookwolf Dead!**

 **In: Boards ► Brockton Bay**

 **Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Mar 5th 2011:

That's right folks, this is exactly what you see on the tin.

The infamous villain Hookwolf, of the Empire 88, was confirmed dead this morning after a confrontation with 'Courier Six', a new cape on the scene, turned violent.

The report's a little tight lipped about what exactly went down, (Read it for yourself here) but they have said that Courier Six will not be facing any legal repercussions as a result of Hookwolf's death, due to the fact that he was acting in self defense at the the time.

I don't have any pictures to back this up this time, but I'd probably get banned if I tried. According to the autopsy report, his body, and I quote, "...showed signs of third degree burns across most of his body, including internally around the sternum and lungs."

Yikes.

 **(Showing page 12 of 90)**

► **TipsHat**

Replied On Mar 5th 2011:

Holy Hell, is this serious?

*Reads Official Report*

Well ho-lee shite, I thought Christmas was three months ago, and yet here we are!

► **DogEatDog**

Replied On Mar 5th 2011:

This is actually serious?

I mean, I certainly won't mourn the guy's death, but how's the Empire going to react?

I doubt they're just going to take it laying down, you know?

► **Nod**

Replied On Mar 5th 2011:

This has to be big.

DogEatDog is right, Hookwolf was one of the Empire's biggest enforcers.

This isn't the same as having him in custody, he's off the streets permanently now.

► **Nutkrakker**

Replied On Mar 5th 2011:

TipsHat Shouldn't it be Hanukkah, given that this is the Empire we're talking about? :P

► **Ghostofthe3rdReich**

Replied On Mar 5th 2011:

(Post edited by Moderator)

I shouldn't need to remind you all that racial slurs are against our rules.

-TinMother

► **TipsHat**

Replied On Mar 5th 2011:

Ghostofthe3rdReich

Goodbye, you white pride jackass.

We hardly knew ye, and we'll miss you even less.

► **PressVikings**

Replied On Mar 5th 2011:

Jesus, this is gonna cause chaos.

What about Courier Six, though?

I mean, good job and all clearing out the trash, but is anyone else concerned about his apparent propensity for violence?

I don't believe this isn't going to bite someone in the ass.

► **Nutkrakker**

Replied On Mar 5th 2011:

I mean, yeah, you've got a point. The Empire's going to be out for this guy's blood, but how much can they do?

Hookwolf was one of their heavier hitters, and a high level brute at that. If this guy can take him one on one, that kinda necessitates a ranged approach.

So, Kaiser? Maybe Purity, if she's still around. I heard some rumors she's trying to get away from them.

► **PressVikings**

Replied On Mar 5th 2011:

Yeah, you've got a point. He must have some way to get by brutes.

Didn't he have that Tinkertech rifle when he fought Crusader? Sounds like the kind of thing that gives third-degree burns to me.

► **White Fairy** (Veteran Member)

Replied On Mar 5th 2011:

You guys probably want to take this discussion to the proper thread.

I'm pretty sure Courier Six has his own thread now for these kinds of discussions.

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 **Topic: Courier Six**

 **In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Capes**

 **Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Jan 7th 2011:

This is the thread for discussion Courier Six, Brockton Bay's newest, and apparently most mysterious cape with a tendency for maximum force.

Images:

Courier Six at BB General: [1] [2]

Assault and Battery teaming up with Courier Six; Crusader Captured: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Courier Six wearing Hookwolf's mask: [1] [2]

 **(Showing page 68 of 79)**

► **Antigone**

Replied On Mar 17th 2011:

So how much do we even know about this guy, anyway?

I mean he comes out of nowhere dressed like a villain, scares one of the best parahuman healers in history, leaves one cape screaming and probably crippled for life if it weren't for said healer, and kills another. They were villains, granted, but how long until this guy turns out to be another Gavel?

► **ShiphandMike**

Replied On Mar 17th 2011:

Personally, I say let him have at it. Brockton Bay's already on the edge of full blown war. How much worse can this guy make it?

► **Reave** (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Mar 17th 2011:

I've finally gotten permission to post a little more information about what we know about this guy.

Courier Six is an independent hero, apparently working for a group of Tinkers calling themselves "The Big Empty". We think they're a group like Toybox, but they don't seem to sell anything they make, and we hadn't heard of them before this, so either they're really new, or they're that good at staying under the radar.

As for Courier Six himself, he's definitely more skilled than he lets on. He's got a lot of combat experience, but we're not entirely sure where from. He didn't exactly give us his SSN or anything, so it's kind of hard to speculate on that sort of thing without skirting closer to revealing his identity than most capes are comfortable with.

We know he's a Brute and a Thinker, with Tinker weapons, but I'm not allowed to post the specific details of his abilities unless he okays it himself.

► **PressVikings**

Replied On Mar 17th 2011:

Huh. Well, we finally got something on the guy. I'm still confused on the name though. A name like Courier definitely suggests a mover power, but the PRTs got nothing.

Speaking of, if he's Courier Six, what happened to Couriers One through Five?

Are there others just like this guy scattered around the country? The world?

► **XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Banned)

Replied On Mar 17th 2011:

Courier Six is obviously the first sign of alien invaders! First they send their cloned soldiers to kill off anyone who might try to fight back against them, then they come down, and start abducting anyone they want, so they can dissect our bodies for science, or whatever they want to do with us!

► **TipsHat**

Replied On Mar 17th 2011:

Aaand there he is. Was wondering when you'd show up, XxVoid_CowboyxX.

Still as fucking stupid with your theories as ever, I see.

► **XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Banned)

Replied On Mar 17th 2011:

I'm just saying, it all adds up!

He keeps his whole body covered, and we've never seen what's beneath his helmet!

Maybe he's got a Cthulhu head or something! Maybe he's got a bunch of tentacles sprouting out of his back, and the real reason Panacea was so scared of him was because he (Edited by Moderator)

That's WAY over the line, buddy. Enjoy the ban.

► **TipsHat**

Replied On Mar 17th 2011:

And away he goes. Ride on, you absolutely mad motherfucker. Preferably somewhere with some sun, assuming it doesn't instantly burn you to a crisp.

► **ChikinNunget**

Replied On Mar 18th 2011:

GUYS. GUYS.

CHECK THIS OUT [LINK]

THIS GUY'S WEARING HOOKWOLF'S MASK IN THE MIDDLE OF EMPIRE TERRITORY.

HE'S GOT BALLS OF FUCKING ALEXANDRIA STRENGTH DIAMOND, GUYS.

THE ABSOLUTE MADMAN!

► **Nutkrakker**

Replied On Mar 13th 2011:

Holy hell. He's just giving the whole damn Empire two middle fingers, isnt he?

Is he trying to rile them up?

On one hand, lmao the absolute disrespect here. I guarantee this guy's gone straight to the top of every white supremacist's shit list.

On the other... Gang violence, I guess?

I don't think the usual thugs are much of a threat to this guy, so good luck to Courier Six against any capes that decide to go headhunting. Try not to cause too much damage, eh?

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **...** **66** **,** **67** **, 68,** **69** **,** **70** **...** **77** **,** **78** **,** **79**

* * *

Maxwell Anders closed the browser window as his lieutenant walked in.

"James." He nodded.

"Max." The man nodded back.

"What have you got on this 'Courier Six'?"

James slid a thin file across the desk.

"To be frank? Not much. Before January, this man is a complete nobody. No sightings, no rumors, nothing. As far as anyone knows, he popped out of thin air in that hospital a few months ago."

Max raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing out of the PRT?"

"Nothing," James confirmed, "Our contacts barely know more than the public. There does seem to be more to his file, but the security on it is unusually high. If they tried to access it, they'd be arrested before they could even read most of it."

Max cursed.

"We can't recruit him," He grunted, "Even if he hadn't made clear his... disagreements with our ideology, Cricket and Stormtiger would never allow it. They'd be at his throat the moment we turned our back."

James nodded.

"I agree. We can't allow him to walk away from this untouched, but we need to be careful; Courier Six clearly isn't some fresh trigger. I doubt he'll be scared into line easily, if at all."

"...I figured as much," Max growled, "Tell the rank and file to keep an eye out, but not to engage him. Every man has a weakness. Once we find that, then he'll answer for his crimes."

James nodded.

"Of course. I'll have it done immediately. Have a good evening, Max."

"You too, James."

Max grabbed a bottle out of his desk; a fine whiskey he kept saved for just such an occasion, and poured himself a couple fingers. Sipping at it contentedly, he turned to look out his office window, over the Bay.

Courier Six wouldn't be able to hide forever. Once they found him, found out how the man could be manipulated, then the strength of the entire Empire 88 would come crashing down on him like an iron wave.

* * *

 **A short interlude, but I got it out quick, so it all balances out, right?**

 **This interlude's another one where I'm more establishing who knows what and how much, rather than really advancing the plot, I guess; like last chapter. Not exactly exciting, but I think it's important to do anyway. I'm not a huge fan of it, to be honest.**

 **But now on to what you really want to know:**

 **YES.**

 **The next chapter is where the action starts. Things start kicking into high gear after this. Well, high-er gear. I'm as excited as you are, guys.**


	14. Chapter 10

Taylor shivered slightly, clutching her coat closer to her body as a particularly harsh breeze hit her. She had been hesitant, at first, to include the trench coat Six had left behind weeks ago in her costume; the ends went down around her ankles, and the chances of tripping over them while running were… not zero. For once, though, her father's gangly, string-bean genetics were working in her favor.

In her decision to come out tonight, though, she had ended up putting it on anyway. The leather was thick and heavy, and the protection it offered cemented her decision to add it into her costume; at least until she could acquire the armor plates she had originally planned into the design. The jacket by itself _might_ only stop a bullet or two, but that was one or two more than she'd be able to take without it. With a belt to keep it fastened around her waist, the end result was something like a cross between a cowboy and a noir thriller protagonist. Certainly intimidating, combined with her insectoid mask. She just hoped that it wasn't enough to cause any misunderstandings about her allegiances. The best way, though, to stop that from happening was to make her first impression on the heroes a good one, and to do that, she had to find some criminals to bring down.

Moving along, one block at a time, Taylor kept drawing bugs into her swarm, keeping them out of sight. By the time she caught sight of something worth checking out, that being a group of thugs in ABB colors, she had amassed a significant swarm of roaches, wasps, bees, spiders and all other species of insect, nasty and painful alike. She was tempted to send the swarm forward, have them disable the thugs before they even knew what was happening, but then she saw the others streaming out of a nearby building, gathering into a swarm of their own. There weren't many, maybe a few dozen all told, but it was enough to give Taylor reason to pause. Then, as if the universe itself were shaking its head silently, telling her to move on and forget what she saw, Lung himself appeared in the building's doorway.

The man was tall, a good six feet at least, his chest bared and showing off his many tattoos, and his face covered by an ornate metal mask depicting a dragon. Taylor wasn't eager to end her first night as cape as a charred corpse, but her curiosity was just strong enough to stop her from turning around and washing her hands of the whole affair right then and there. Rather, she crept off into a side alley, finding the fire escape to the building Lung had just exited. She snuck over to the edge of the roof, hiding just out of sight of any of the gangers but close enough to eavesdrop on Lung's speech.

"…the children, just shoot. Doesn't matter your aim, just shoot," He growled, "You see one lying on the ground? Shoot the little bitch twice more to be sure. We give them no chances to be clever or lucky, understand?"

Taylor's blood froze.

 _Killing kids?_

She couldn't just let that happen; but she couldn't exactly jump into combat yelling _'Halt, Evildoer!'_ , either. If the combined might of the local Protectorate couldn't take Lung, there wasn't a chance in hell that she could do it alone. Still, it wasn't like she could just let them run off to wherever they were going and kill innocents!

Taylor was still deep in internal debate, her swarm poised to attack at any moment, when a sharp crack jolted her out of her thoughts, followed by an agonized cry cutting off Lung's speech, and a meaty 'thunk' of something colliding with a wooden door after that.

She heard shouts of surprise, men scrambling out of the street as they hurried to figure out where the shot had come from, or at least avoid becoming the gunman's next target. Taylor scrabbled off of the lip of the roof and ducked behind the ledge, hopefully either unseen or ignored by the gunman. After a moment of silence, she peeked her head up, scanning up and down the street to try and find the source.

" _Right here, boys,"_ A voice drawled from one end of the street. Taylor's, and no doubt several of thugs' heads, twisted to face the voice. All she could make out in the dim light of the moon was a pair of glowing crimson eyes, slowly moving closer with each echoing footstep on the asphalt.

It occured to Taylor, frozen in shock as she was, that she recognized the voice; to say nothing of the distinctive crimson glare.

It was the same man who had saved her life weeks ago when he freed her from the locker.

" _So, I just got a message not too long ago on this fancy new 'cell phone',"_ He continued, _"And it promised me a lot of money if I came here, to this address, and shot anyone wearing red and green."_

As Six slowly sauntered closer, Taylor could make out more and more details, including the large lever-action rifle resting over one shoulder.

" _So I come out here, not expecting much, but lo and behold, an entire legion of guys wearing- guess what- red and green! And not only that, but they're talking about shooting children, if I heard King Dipshit over there correctly."_ Six unslung the rifle, holding it with the casual surety of a man who was confident he had already won. _"I have to say, though; killing children? That's just bad taste." He_ worked the action, sending a brass casing skittering away into the otherwise quiet night.

" _ **So. Who's ready to die first?"**_

There was a moment of silence, Taylor staring at Six, who was, presumably, staring at the gathered group of ABB thugs. One of the thugs shouted something in a language Taylor didn't know, followed by several more shouts in half a dozen different languages. Some ran, their footsteps echoing up to the rooftops, others opened fire. Six didn't flinch, didn't show any sign that the bullets were even hitting as he stalked towards them like some sort of revenant, bullets slapping against his jacket and helmet ineffectively.

Finally snapping out of her shocked silence, Taylor ordered her swarm forward. She couldn't take this whole group alone, but she could certainly provide assistance as someone else did. The shocked and pained cries she received in return only confirmed her decision. She held her more potentially dangerous bugs in reserve; but the roaches, flies, and other biting insects she ordered to attack _en masse_ , and to good effect. Several gangers fell to the ground, literally covered in a blanket of insects, firing their guns blindly in a desperate attempt to chase the attackers off. Others, probably the smarter ones in the bunch, turned and ran; the combination of Lung being (hopefully) incapacitated, and an incoming cape they couldn't seem to stop made for more than enough incentive to cut and run while they still could.

Six's howling laughter as the bullets impacted his armor only added to the intimidation value.

"C'mon, motherfuckers," She heard him cackling, "That all you got!? Where's your spine, huh? I got mine right here!"

Taylor had to admit, even she was a little terrified by the display.

She didn't know how long it had been when the gunfire finally died down. She knew, in the back of her mind, that it had only been a minute or two, max, but it felt like it had been so much longer. Through her insects' senses, Taylor saw a half dozen thugs that hadn't had the intelligence to run laid spread across the pavement, some moaning and clutching their wounds, others curled up and covered in welts. Getting to her feet, gravel crunching beneath her, Taylor peeked over the ledge at the carnage.

Only to find herself staring down the barrel of Six's rifle a couple stories below.

"Don't shoot!" She yelped, ducking back behind the stone barrier. There was a moment of silence, and Taylor had a thought that she might need to use her bugs to keep Six from taking her head off before he finally responded.

"Wait a sec… Aren't you that kid I pulled out of that locker a few weeks back?"

Peeking back over the ledge again, Taylor saw that he had lowered his gun, his head cocked to one side.

"What was it, something with a 'T'?"

"Don't say my name!" She squawked, springing to her full height. "I don't want any of the gangs figuring out my identity!"

"Oh. Uh, sorry." He grunted. "Hey, was that you with those bugs just now? Nice work; helped save me the trouble of shooting those guys."

"Y-yeah." Taylor managed to stutter out. It felt nice to finally get some praise for once. She looked up and down the street, at the bodies of the fallen thugs. "...Are they going to be okay?"

"Who-? Oh, those guys. Yeah, I'll take care of 'em in a sec. Mind helping me out?"

Taylor nodded silently, sliding off the ledge and climbing back down the fire escape. Before she could reach the street, though, she heard grunting echoing out from up ahead.

" _You better sit back down, before I make you- Hrk-!"_

She heard another man yelling.

' _Was that Lung?'_

And then a thud like someone collapsing to the ground, followed by grunting, shouting, and other fighting sounds. As Taylor sprinted out into the street, She saw Six pinned to the ground by Lung, trying to kick the man off as he slashed with partially transformed claws. She could see Lung growing before her eyes, scaly metallic plates erupting from his back as he slashed and clawed and literally _spat flames_ at Six.

 _She couldn't take on Lung!_

 _...Could she?_

She would have to, Taylor realized quickly. There was no one else nearby; any Protectorate heroes, if they were coming at all, would be too late to do anything more than distract Lung. If someone didn't stop him soon, then Lung would kill Six, or go on a rampage trying. Either way, people would die. Calling up her entire swarm to buy time attacking Lung, Taylor searched for something, anything she could use to stop him.

First Aid Kit?

No.

Pepper Spray?

A bit late for that, now.

Epipens?

 _Oh how ironic it would be,_ Taylor thought absently, _for Lung of all people to be incapacitated by an allergic reaction._ As it was, though, she doubted even the toughest of her insects could penetrate those scales of his, so it was a moot point. She ordered her swarm forward anyway; maybe she could distract Lung, blind him long enough for Six to take back the advantage.

Most of her insects burned up before they could find a weak spot in Lung's scales, his skin already hot enough to pop them like miniature water balloons in seconds, but her flying insects found more success. While his skin was too well armored to get through, Lung's defense wasn't perfect. His eyes, the inside of his mouth, and the areas up his nose were all regular flesh; just as vulnerable to bites and stings as any other person. Taylor ordered every flying insect she had to attack those areas. Wasps, bees, and mosquitoes among others all clustering into any exposed orifice they could find; dying in droves to Lung's flames, but effective nonetheless as they bit and stung at whatever exposed flesh they could.

The half-dragon man screamed, clawing at his face as one insect landed a particularly painful sting. After a moment of stumbling around and clutching his head, Lung roared, releasing a wave of fire that forced even Taylor to duck behind the building she was using for cover to avoid getting singed. All of her insects in the vicinity of Lung disappeared, instantly vaporized by the wave of heat. When she peeked back around the corner, Taylor locked eyes with Lung, who roared in response.

" _ **You!"**_

Taylor stumbled back, tripping over her feet and sitting frozen with fear as Lung loped towards her, wreathed in fire and howling with fury. In seconds, he was upon her, towering over Taylor and growling.

" _ **I 'onna 'ill you,"**_ He growled, his voice carrying a sort of finality. Taylor clenched her eyes shut, both from the intensity of the flames, and in a sort of acceptance of her fate. She had tried to be a hero, and fate had slapped her down for it. With her final moments, Taylor hoped her Dad would be alright.

Before Lung could strike, though, a shot rang out. Taylor heard a man screaming. Something warm and wet with shards of something harder intermixed splattered over the side of her mask.

Taylor opened her eyes. Her vision in her right eye was obscured, whatever had splattered over her face leaving her vision tinged red. With her left eye, Taylor saw Lung kneeling before her, clutching at the grisly remains of his mangled knee. Behind him, approaching with his rifle shouldered, was Six.

" _ **When I say sit down,"**_ He growled, every step punctuated by the rapid fire  
 _'Bang Ch-chink'_ of his rifle cycling, _**"You sit. The fuck. Down."**_

With every shot, Lung cried out, the bullets sparking as they collided with his armored scales and carved gouges and furrows into his back. When Six finally stopped, standing victorious over Lung, the ABB leader's body was a brutalized mess, both knees shattered and bloody pulps from where Six's bullets had managed to penetrate. Reloading, Six lowered his rifle at the villain's arms, blowing out the man's elbows in the same manner.

"Motherfucker," He grunted, "I'd like to see him get up from _that._ "

Seemingly satisfied, he turned to Taylor.

"You alright there, kid? You've got a little something on your… Uh," He gestured to his right side. "Everything."

Snapping out of her stupor, Taylor wiped a hand over her mask. It came away covered in blood. _Lung's blood._

"I'm… I'm fine." She lied.

"Yes. Because I'm totally going to believe that." Six agreed. "But if you don't want to talk about it, that's your business."

Stepping over Lung's body, Six held out a hand.

"C'mon kid, up you go."

Taking his hand, Taylor was pulled to her feet, Six clapping a hand on her shoulder.

"Good work back there, kid. Bought me enough time to get my bearings, even if you did almost get barbecued in the process."

Taylor swelled with alternating pride at being recognized for helping bring down Lung, and embarrassment on how close she came to dying in the process. She _really_ could have planned that out a bit more. Finally she settled on letting the two feelings cancel each other out, taking a small amount of pride in the fact that she was alive and in one piece.

"...Thanks." She finally said.

"But anyway, what're you doing out here?" Six continued. "That getup of yours doesn't exactly scream _'going for a casual stroll in the park'._ "

"I'm-... I _was_ looking for criminals to stop," Taylor finally admitted. "When I saw Lung and the gangers, I couldn't just let them go and do whatever they were planning. Feels kind of stupid now, though."

Six laughed, slapping her on the back.

"Ah, don't worry, that's just the near death experience talking. Makes you question every decision you ever made. Just ignore it; you're not dead yet, so things didn't go _that_ bad."

Taylor stayed quiet; Six sort of had a point. Sort of.

"Yeah, but there has to have been a better way to take care of it-" She started to argue.

"And worse ways too. Maybe you could've tripped and brained yourself on the curb. No point in dwelling on the what-ifs." Six chuckled to himself. "Heh, reminds me of this one would-be mugger back in Freeside. Fucker was so strung out on Jet and Psycho that he couldn't even walk straight. Didn't have to lay a hand on him before he knocked himself out."

Taylor chuckled slightly at the thought. She remembered a PHO board she had seen some time ago mocking the Merchants at their worst. Highlights included a guy trying to threaten an ATM into giving him money, and another guy hallucinating that his gun had turned into a snake while in the process of mugging a man. They were good for a laugh when she was feeling down.

"But anyway, don't worry about it too much." Six continued. "We won, and that's really all there is to it."

"He's got a point, you know," A voice called out. Taylor and Six both whirled around to face the stranger, Six levelling his rifle in her direction.

"Whoa, whoa," A girl in a purple bodysuit, evidently the stranger in question, stood on the ledge of the roof across the street from them; holding up her hands in an appeasing gesture. Her tone wasn't hostile, but it wasn't entirely at ease either. Her smile, likewise, was not one that suggested friendly familiarity. "Don't shoot. I'm friendly. Or at least not hostile."

* * *

 **Oof… Took me long enough, huh? If you're wondering what happened to me for the last month or so, let me show you what happened about a week after posting my last chapter:**

 **Me: Hey boss, I'm back home for Winter Break. I'd be happy to work a few shifts if you need some extra help.**

 **Boss: Great! I'll put you in next week's schedule. By the way, think you could cover a couple shifts? One of our S/As is out.**

 **Me: Oh yeah, sure thing.**

 **Boss: Also, we're pretty busy next week. So you'll be working a few doubles.**

 **Me: ...Oh. Alright then…**

 **Boss: Also, two of our servers quit days before our Christmas banquet, literally our biggest event of the year, so we'll be extra busy!**

 **Me: :)**

 **My Other Boss: Oh hey, one of our Dishwashers is out sick, do you think you could cover for them?**

 **Me: :)))))))**

 **But anyway, that's the gist of it. December's always the busiest month, so it's sort of to be expected, but damn it felt like I was doing more work on break than I was at college.**

 **For that reason, I decided to split this chapter in two to give you guys something as thanks for sticking it out so long.**

 **As for this chapter, it had a bit of trouble on its way out, though I'm not sure if it was a result of inability to focus as a result of the previously mentioned work, or because of my subconscious 'shit writing alert' that stops me from writing when my writing starts coming out bad. Only one way to figure out which one it is, though, so make sure you point out any mistakes you spot.**

 **On a related note, some of you may recall a one shot I posted to SB some time ago; a crossover between Worm and Ace Combat by the name of** _ **Pixy**_ **, in which Taylor triggers as a Tinker with the specialty of creating massive superweapons of the type common to the AC series. If you aren't, go check it out; I was pretty proud of it. But anywho, I've been struck by a bout of inspiration to turn that little one shot into something more. (Gee, I wonder where that came from, hm?) I'm not entirely sure how far I'd go with it, and I'm not going to just drop Cazador entirely to work on it, but I may decide to occasionally type something up for it as the inspiration strikes, maybe flip back and forth between the two stories. We'll see.**

 **But enough of that; I promise not to take so long on the next chapter.**


	15. Chapter 11

Taylor eyed the strange girl suspiciously, mentally taking stock of what bugs she still had in her swarm. It wasn't a lot, most of them having been burned to a crisp by Lung, but it would be enough to scare off the average person, or at least distract them for a few moments if need be.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to fight," The girl said, "Just wanted to thank our knight in dusty armor over there."

Six seemed appeased enough, lowering his gun; Taylor, likewise, released her grip on her swarm somewhat, though she kept them just out of sight.

"Jesus, when the boss said he'd send us some backup, I wasn't expecting Courier Six of all people," She muttered, "But anyway, if he hired you, I'm betting he promised you a reward for it, right?"

Six must have nodded, because the girl continued on after a moment.

"I'm sure you've probably guessed, but unfortunately, I seem to have left my wallet at home tonight, so we can't pay you right now." The girl shrugged, grinning helplessly after miming patting her pockets. "That said, we _are_ villains, so I'm sure you could make a decent payout turning us into the PRT; after all, what am I gonna do? Talk you to death?"

Taylor felt her skin crawling, just a little. Something about this girl- this villain, she reminded herself- rubbed her the wrong way.

"...Who are you?" She finally asked. "I don't recognize your costume, and you don't look like you're part of any of the major gangs."

"I could say the same about you, except for the part about the costume," The girl replied, "Do I sense a bit of hero worship there, Miss Courier Wannabe? Or maybe… _Something more?"_

Taylor scowled. So what if her costume looked sort of like Six's? The coat was useful (and pretty comfy, she had to admit), so there wasn't any reason not to use it.

"The coat may be practical, but you and I both know that's not what you were thinking when you took it." The girl grinned, her words dripping with playful confidence. "But to answer your earlier question; I'm Tattletale, member of the Undersiders and mind reader extraordinaire."

The Undersiders… Taylor recognized the name, vaguely. They were known more for their escapes than their crimes. Not major players, not by a long shot, but villains nonetheless.

"Anyway, as I was saying, you could turn my group in," Tattletale continued, "None of us really has a defense against the overwhelming power of bullets, so it wouldn't really even be a fight. Or, you could let us go."

"Why would we do that? Taylor interjected. "You said it yourself, we could easily take you in."

"Because I said you could defeat us, not catch us." Tattletale said, smugly, "You think we'd really fight you head to head after you just beat Lung? Plus, we'll pay you twice whatever the PRT's offering."

Taylor froze at that. She didn't know what the Undersiders' rewards were, but twice that had to be a pretty large amount of money.

"Eh, fine." Six grunted before she could reply. Tattletale's face lit up.

"Great! Give us a day or two, and we'll contact you with a time and a place. Also, you might want to keep an eye on your prisoner there; looks like he's about to wake up."

Taylor and Six both looked down. Sure enough, Lung had begun to shift and groan where he laid, his ruined joints already nearly healed.

"God dammit, how many fucking times are we going to have to do this?" Six groaned, facepalming. "You know what? I'm done pussyfooting around with this guy; hold this."

Handing his rifle to Taylor, Six reached into his coat, pulling out a silvery-grey knife in one hand and a jar full of some kind of rust colored gunk in the other. Popping the cork off the jar with his thumb, Six poured the powdery, evil looking substance over the blade, covering it on both sides. That done, Six bent over Lung's rapidly awakening form, sliding the blade between the cracks in his scales, and into Lung's flesh. Lung's response was nearly instant, grunting as the blade slid in, quickly turning to thrashing and shouting as the poison set in. Taylor stepped back, equal parts disgusted and horrified at the sight.

"Oh my god," She heard Tattletale's equally disgusted reaction from across the street. "What the hell was that stuff…?"

"Cloud." Six replied simply. "I used the weaker stuff. If he can shrug off getting his knees and elbows blown out like that, he'll live." Six tapped the Lung's temple with his boot, the man having quickly passed out from… Well, Taylor hoped it was because he was _supposed_ to pass out like that. She looked back up to Tattletale, who was looking significantly greener. Evidently, she was seeing something that Taylor couldn't. Probably something power-related.

" _Fucking hell…"_ Taylor heard her muttering. "Well then, I'm going to get out of here, before I see anything else that leaves me scarred for life."

She made an exaggerated shiver, backing off the ledge. Out of sight, Taylor could hear the baying of some unknown creature, and the whoosh of something bulky flying through the air, specks of gravel flying off the roof from the force of its movement.

"Well, that's that, I guess." Six finally said, after a pause. "Not a bad night, all things considered. I wonder what this guy's bounty is?"

Looking down at Lung, Taylor saw that he had begun reverting back to his regular shape and size, much of his scales having melted back into his flesh. Looking closer, she saw a patch of raw, red flesh just below his ribs that looked almost black around the edges, surrounded by a larger patch of mottled, sickly greenish skin. His breathing was labored, and Taylor could see beads of sweat as his body tried to purge the toxins.

"...Are you sure he'll be okay?" She mumbled.

"Yeah. Probably." Six grunted. "I've got an antidote for it, but I don't want him waking up before I can make him someone else's problem. Anything more powerful'll probably tip the odds out of my favor for killing him, and I'm not real eager to push my luck right now."

Taylor nodded faintly. Lung's regeneration was well known; it was what had let him fight Leviathan head to head years ago. Anyone who wanted a decisive victory against him would have to counteract that healing factor somehow.

That didn't stop the guilt gnawing in her gut at Lung's prone form.

"Oh, hey, looks like someone's here."

Looking up from her rumination, Taylor strained to hear the rumbling of an engine in the distance. It was easy enough to figure out the approximate direction with her insects, feeling the vibrations of the sound more than hearing it, and turning to spot the single headlight in the distance rushing towards them. Discreetly, she called the remnants of her swarm to hide nearby, in shadows and crevices among the nearby buildings, in case the new arrival turned out to be hostile.

Six's reaction was less subdued.

"Nyeh-hey! What's up, Arms-Man?'

Indeed, once her vision adjusted to the miniature sun someone had decided to call a headlight, she saw that it was, in fact, Armsmaster at the wheel, grimacing faintly.

"Courier Six," He grunted, "I had a suspicion you were involved when I heard the call. Where's Lung? I should make sure he's completely neutralized before anything else."

"Right there." Six muttered, pointing at the villain's body. "I got him down and out for now, but if he can shrug off getting both his knees blown out then I'm not sure how long the dose of Cloud I gave him'll last."

"Cloud? You mean the substance that you claimed could 'melt your flesh'?" Armsmaster's tone was disbelieving, and a little sickened, looking at the sweating and panting man, in obvious pain.

"Yeah, but that's only when it's actually floating around in a cloud. The residue doesn't seem as strong." Six shrugged. "To be fair, I only used because the guy wouldn't stay down the first time. Or the second."

Armsmaster sighed.

"Very well. I assume you have an antidote?"

"Yeah, right here." Six fished a simple looking bottle out of his coat. "Tribal antivenom. Works pretty good for other poisons too, though."

Pulling the stopper out, Taylor heard Six muttering something under his breath as he poured a stream of milky white liquid on to Lung's wound, massaging it into the cut. When he finally finished, he pulled small leather bag out, handing it to Armsmaster.

"He should be fine once he wakes up, but if there's still any lingering toxins, give him this. It'll burn going down and burn even worse coming out, but it should purge any toxins still in his body."

Nodding, Armsmaster took the bag, storing it in a pocket on his armor.

"Normally, I would berate someone for using such a blatantly toxic substance on another human being, but given Lung's reputation and abilities, I suppose you had at least some justification. Still, it was unnecessarily dangerous to try taking on Lung alone. You could have requested PRT support."

"I wasn't alone!" Six whined. "I had her backing me up."

Armsmaster turned to look directly at Taylor, and she realized Six had been pointing right to her.

"Uh… Hey…" She mumbled, mentally berating herself even as she did.

 _Oh yes, excellent first impression, Taylor. Mom would be astounded at your display of eloquence._

Looking up, she realized that Armsmaster had approached her, one arm extended for a handshake. Tentatively, she took it, the man nodding slightly in approval.

"It's good to meet you, Miss…?"

Taylor panicked mentally. She still hadn't picked out a hero name, and her brain was drawing a blank at the moment.

"I don't-... I haven't actually picked one out yet…"

Taylor wanted to curl up into a ball: She had put so much work into her costume, gotten all the supplies she figured she would need, even taken down Lung of all people on her first night out! And now here she was, flubbing up her first meeting with a hero, let alone _Armsmaster,_ like she was some kind of star-struck cape groupie.

Okay, maybe she was a little star-struck; this was _Armsmaster_ , after all. But still!

"I understand." Armsmaster nodded, his mouth quirked ever so slightly. "Managing public opinion and appearance is nearly as important as actually combating criminal activity, and possibly the more difficult of the two. I would, however, recommend you decide on one before the public decides on one for you."

Taylor nodded.

"Thanks," She murmured. "It's… difficult to think of a name that doesn't sound stupid or make me look like a villain."

"It can be a difficult balance to find," Armsmaster agreed, "I'll put a provisional name in the report, and whenever you register yourself with PRT, we'll make sure you're properly credited for any prior achievements."

"If she needs a name, it can't be that hard to think of one, right?" Six interjected, turning to look at Taylor. "Just something related to that thing you did with the bugs right? What about… Scorpion?"

"Copyrighted." Armsmaster frowned. "It's the name of a popular video game character. Most businesses tend to frown on parahumans using names referencing popular intellectual properties, whether hero or villain."

"So that's a no-go then… What about Mantis?"

"Taken by a villain in France; also a known cannibal."

Taylor grimaced under her mask. She didn't really need to know that last part…"

"Oh. Well shit. _What about… Bloatfly? Nah, even I can tell that's terrible…"_

Six trailed off, muttering to himself. Letting out a small sigh, Taylor turned to Armsmaster.

"It's fine, right? I can just take the name the PRT gives me, if nothing else, right?"

"You could; most don't. Usually, the ones that try tend to complain about PRT provisional titles being 'unimaginative', and rebranding gets significantly more difficult the longer you stay with the assigned name. Personally, I would recommend you select one as soon as possible, if-"

" _I got it!"_ Taylor and Armsmaster both swiveled to face Six, who was snapping and making finger guns at them. _"Cazador!_ That one works, right?"

Armsmaster was silent for a moment.

"Cazador… Spanish for _'hunter'_... Yes, that name isn't taken. Is that what you'd like to be referred to as?"

Taylor stayed silent, thinking. It wasn't a _bad_ name, necessarily… Kind of strange, and not really related to bugs as far as she could tell, but it didn't sound goofy or evil.

"Sure, I guess. Probably better than anything I could come up with."

Armsmaster nodded.

"Very well. I'll make sure you're referred to as such; I assume the two of you will be taking credit as a team for bringing down Lung?"

"A team?" It suddenly clicked to Taylor how similar her own costume's appearance was to Six's. Two capes wearing almost all black costumes and matching coats? Anyone would have assumed they were together, even if her first appearance hadn't ended up with them teaming up. "I don't think-"

"Yeah, sure." Six interrupted nonchalantly, glancing over at her. "I mean, if you're up for it, kid."

Taylor slouched over slightly. Honestly, though… It wasn't that bad an idea. She wasn't all that eager to join the Wards; not yet, at least, and the alternatives were either go it alone or join another independent team. In Brockton Bay, that meant her options were New Wave or… _New Wave_. It was well known that they were a family team; Taylor didn't want to rely on her chances of convincing them to let her join. So really, that left her with the options of independent or this. Six was strong enough to take out Hookwolf alone, and the two of them together had managed to take out _Lung_. At the very least, she'd have someone watching her back.

"Yeah," She finally agreed, "We're working as a team."

"I see," Armsmaster nodded, "In that case, I won't bother with giving either of you a recruitment pitch. That said, so long as you maintain a heroic disposition, the PRT will be willing to provide whatever assistance it can. If you register yourselves as an official independent team, then any member will be able to claim bounties for the entire team, among other things. It's mostly a matter of convenience, but the PRT recommends that all long term cape teams register, for official legitimacy if nothing else."

"Alright, cool." Six agreed, giving a thumbs-up. "I'll make sure to get that taken care of. _Eventually…"_

"Very well then." Armsmaster inclined his head, first to Six, then to Taylor in a respectful nod. "If that was all, then I'll be going. I'd prefer to have Lung behind bars before he wakes up, and I don't want to risk any negative reaction between my own sedatives and any toxins left in his system."

With a quick chirp, his motorcycle a few feet away began to unfold a sort of bucket seat on the rear, with obvious hooks for securing a cuffed passenger to the bike.

"I wish the both of you a good evening. And Cazador?"

Taylor turned, staring at the hero as he strapped Lung onto his motorcycle.

"You did good work tonight, but you should be careful. High profile busts like this are sure to earn you the ire of villains; especially when you're as new as you are, and many of them will not hesitate to kill you."

With that, he mounted his motorcycle, leaving Taylor and Six alone in the street.

" _Cheery."_ Six groused. "Eh, don't let it get to you, kid. You did good tonight." Stifling a yawn, he shrugged. "Speaking of, I think that'll do it for tonight. I'm gonna go head home and grab some sleep."

He had just started walking off when Taylor shook herself out of her reverie, turning to chase after him.

"Wait!" She called out, running after him. "How are we going to meet up again? Shouldn't we get together to… Plot our next move or something?"

Six paused, turning back around.

"Right… Good point kid. Here."

Pulling out a stained piece of paper and a pencil, he scrawled something down, handing it to Taylor.

"Meet me here whenever you've got a chance."

With that, he turned once more, walking off into the night humming a tune.

Clutching the piece of paper in her hands, Taylor began her trek home, her heart… Not swelling with pride, _per se_ , but definitely feeling it. Moderately full of satisfaction, perhaps; Reasonably inflated with confidence, maybe. Nonetheless, when Taylor crept back into bed at nearly three in the morning, she felt much better. Maybe Six had a point; tonight hadn't gone perfect, but she had done what she set out to do. Lung was behind bars, she had made a positive impression on Armsmaster, and now she was even part of a team!

It was almost enough to stave off the impending dread of school in the morning.

* * *

 **Eeyup. I did that.  
Let's be honest, I wasn't exactly being subtle with the title. But there you have it. Taylor's first night out, Hero name chosen, and now she and Six are officially partners. Yay!  
Beyond that, there's really not much else to say. Keep dropping those likes and reviews and I'll keep pumping out more chapters.**


	16. Chapter 12

Taylor trudged down the street, thankful to finally be free of Winslow for another day. Today had been a relatively average day, but all that meant was that she had _only_ had to deal with the Trio a few times. At the very least, they didn't seem to be planning another _'Locker Prank'_ any time soon. Consulting the directions she had printed out, Taylor took a turn, right into the entrance of one of Brockton Bay's more upscale neighborhoods.

 _Did Six live here?_

The houses here were definitely nicer than her own; probably about on par with Emma's house. Hell, didn't New Wave live in the area? Where the hell did Six get that much money? Were the bounties for criminal capes really _that_ lucrative?

Hell, if she started making this kind of money, Taylor could support her dad and herself nearly singlehandedly. He'd never accept that, of course, to say nothing of what he'd think of her fighting other capes. She'd have to tell him eventually though, unless she wanted to leave all those bounties sitting untouched. As much as she didn't want to admit it, Taylor was definitely interested in making this kind of money from hero-ing; it didn't feel right to be motivated to be a hero for money like that, and she definitely also wanted to clean up the Bay, but she had bills to pay, damn it!

...Okay, _her father_ had bills to pay, but they were from _her_ hospital stay, so they were her bills by association.

Looking up, Taylor realized she had reached the address Six had given her. The house was relatively plain looking, mostly a drab grey, with a white picket fence surrounding the backyard. All in all, it was a sizable two-story house in nice condition. Nicer than her own, at the very least. Stepping up to the front door, Taylor was about to knock when she smelled smoke.

She took a few steps back, spotting a plume of smoke rising from the house's backyard. Moving to the fence gate along the side of the house and slipping through, Taylor crept along the wall and poked her head around the corner. In the middle of the yard was Six, a fire crackling in a dug out pit in front if him as he hummed a tune and held a pan of some kind over the flames.

"Six?" Taylor finally asked.

Freezing, Courier Six turned to face her, relaxing after a moment and waving her over.

"Oh, hey kid. Welcome to _Casa del Six_." Patting a patch of grass next to him, he turned back to the fire in front of him. "Make yourself at home. I was just doing a bit of cooking."

Mutely, Taylor made her way over to the spot Six had indicated, peering curiously into the pot he was holding over the flames. For a moment, they both just sat quietly, the crackling fire and the bubbling concoction Six was brewing the only sounds Taylor could hear.

"...Hey Six?" She asked, once she had finally built up the courage to say something. "Did you _buy_ this house?"

"Eeyup." He didn't turn away from the campfire.

" _How?"_

"Got tired of sleeping in alleys and shooting would-be pickpockets. Started looking for someone who was willing to trade for a house. Found this house with a 'For sale' sign out front. Apparently the guy who used to live here died, and the people he left it too were eager to just get it off their hands; I didn't even have to haggle for it."

" _Traded?"_ Taylor was incredulous. _"Traded for what?"_

"Ancient, cursed gold. A whole bar of it. _WooOO~!_ " Six waggled his fingers at Taylor, leaning forward.

" _Ancient, cursed gold?"_ Taylor tried not to sound too incredulous.

"Well, gold, at least. The 'cursed' part is debatable. And the 'ancient' part; It's gotta be at least 200 years old. Antique cursed gold, maybe?" Six shrugged. "I wonder if that makes it any less valuable?"

"How much gold was it? And did they seriously just give you the house like that?"

Six made a non-committal 'eh', reaching into his jacket with one hand.  
"Pretty much. Gave me the keys to the front door and a bunch of papers that look close enough to a deed to me. Even left a bunch of furniture and shit I guess they didn't want too. As for how much; I dunno, a few pounds? You tell me. I like to keep some plain old 'valuable materials' with me, in case I need some emergency funds in times like this."

Taylor boggled as he pulled a huge brick of gold bullion, gasping in surprise at the weight as he dropped it in her hands, probably nearly crushing a few of her bones in the process.

 _A few pounds? More like a few dozen pounds!_

Looking more closely at the bar, Taylor could make out what looked like a serial number, as well as a few other identifying marks. The words **999.9 PURE GOLD** were stamped into the top face, beneath an image of a woman in a crown and some sort of ancient-roman-looking dress, flanked by the words **SIERRA MADRE**. In her hands was a banner with the words **BEGIN AGAIN** emblazoned across it.

"...Sierra Madre?" Taylor finally asked.

"You really, _really_ , don't want to know, kid. Trust me."

Well, she supposed that explained how Six had bought a house; and a pretty damn nice one at that, by Brockton Bay standards. She wasn't sure of the exact conversion rate for gold at the moment, or the state of the housing market, but she was fairly certain that the gold brick currently in her hands was worth more than the combined value of everything her family owned. Maybe. Definitely more than their own house was worth.

Quietly, _gently,_ Taylor set the bar on the ground. Looking back at the goop Six was cooking, she noticed that a lot of it seemed to have boiled off; more than she would have expected was possible, given the consistency it displayed.

"What is that stuff?"

"Salient Green. It's… Plant stuff."

"Plant stuff?" Taylor raised an eyebrow. The name was vaguely familiar.

"Plant stuff." Six confirmed. "All I know is it's made out of plants, and you can cook it into other plants." As if to punctuate his point, Six reached into the pot, pulling out a brown, root looking plant, handing it to Taylor. "Hold this, will you?"

Taylor fumbled the root for a second, nearly dropping it due to the thin, slimy sheen still coating it. Six, meanwhile, pulled out a jar of the 'Salient Green', popping the lid off and pouring it into the pot.

"So, what brings you around, kid?"

Taylor froze, her mind drawing a blank. What _was_ she expecting, coming around?

"I… Dunno." She admitted. "I guess I kind of assumed you would have a plan, since you've been out fighting capes and all for the past few months…"

"Fair." Six finally said after a pause. "But if you're looking for a plan, you're in the wrong place. I've just been wandering around listening for gunshots and screams."

At Taylor's raised eyebrow, he just shrugged.

"Hey, it's worked so far."

At that, Six reached into the pot of green gunk once more, pulling out an orange flower and shaking off the excess goo. Satisfied, he slid it into his jacket, holding out his hand for the root-thing Taylor held. She gave it to him, her mind running on overdrive, trying to come up with something to give her a reason to stick around. It didn't feel right; they had taken down Lung the night before, and now they were standing around wasting time, waiting for… Anything, really. They should have been patrolling, or hunting criminals… Something!

"Well, if that's all, then maybe I could make a suggestion; learn to fight, Kid."

Taylor blinked owlishly, staring at Six.

"What?"

"You did pretty good doing that thing with the bugs last night," Six continued, "But once they were gone, you were practically waiting to get punched. What're you gonna do next time there aren't any bugs to use?"

He had a point. Taylor had thought the same thing herself last night. It wasn't like pesticides were all that uncommon. There were probably at least a few Tinkers that could make some sort of Tinkertech bug zapper.

"I've been looking at self-defence classes…" She mumbled.

"Self _defence_?" Six sounded incredulous, almost derisive. "Kid, if you want to hold your own in a fight, you'll need a lot more than _'Self defence'_. Do you even know how to throw a punch?"

Taylor made a half-hearted grunt. She had read a few books on how to defend yourself at the library, and a few articles online. Some of them had gone over the proper form for punching someone.

"Alright then. Punch me." Six stood, turning to face her and patting his armored chest. "Hard as you can, kid. Don't worry about hurting me. _If you're even able to."_

He snickered, and Taylor frowned. As if she didn't get enough about being 'weak' from the trio. Slipping her backpack off her shoulders and setting it to the side, Taylor took up what she imagined was a proper fighting stance; her fists up in an approximation of a boxer's pose, wide stance, and approaching slowly, in case this was some sort of trick on Six's part. When she got within arm's reach, with still no reaction from Six, she reared back, winding up for a punch. It was just a punch, right?

She lunged forward, her fist connecting with Six's gut.

Her fist erupted in pain.

Taylor yelped, jumping back; her hand stinging like it had been smashed. She clutched it to her chest, trying to squeeze the pain out.

"You gonna throw that punch or what?" Six quipped, still standing motionless.

Taylor managed to vocalize an annoyed growl, trying not to fall to her knees.

"All right, all right, sorry," Six chuckled, "Just wanted to know how much you know about fighting in real life. Apparently? Not fucking much."

"So, what? You've got some sort of special punching technique to teach me?"

"Nah. But I do have these." Six held out his hand, a pair of brass knuckles, wicked spikes sticking out of the business end as they clinked together. "Should let you actually do some damage at least, instead of that stiff breeze you call a punch. Also, I suppose I can teach you a bit on form. Need to make sure you can hold your own, y'know?"

Hesitantly, Taylor took the knuckles with her uninjured hand, slipping her fingers through the holes.

"These seem kind of… Dangerous," Taylor mumbled, "I don't want to get in trouble for using them on thugs or anything."

"They're supposed to be dangerous." Six said flatly. "That's why I'm giving them to you. If you have to use 'em, then we're way past the point of peaceful surrender. If I was expecting you to start going in fists blazing then I'd have given you a power fist instead. Besides, they'll be a good reminder to always do the _right_ thing." Six pointed at her right hand, snickering. Looking down at the plate across the knuckles, Taylor could see the word **LOVE** embossed between the spikes.

"Clever." She smirked, taking a few experimental swings at the air. "Think of that one yourself?"

"I did, actually. I'm very proud of myself, thank you."

Taking up a fighting stance once again, Taylor eyed Six.

"So, what, exactly, were you planning to teach me? And how?"

"First off is your stance, kid." Six took a step forward, one hand on his chin. "Your footing's decent, but make sure you're standing pretty straight; you want to be able to pivot on your foot when you throw a punch, it'll help you squeeze a bit more force into each jab. Your guard's garbage, though."

Without warning, Six jabbed at Taylor's side, almost forcing her to bend in half as she let out a gasp.

"Keep your arms closer to your body, you want to be able to twist to quickly cover your sides, or raise your arms to protect your face."

Taylor pulled her arms in a little closer, and when Six jabbed at her again, she managed to deflect his hand. Sort of. The punch didn't have nearly the speed or power that his last one did, but Taylor was just glad to keep them from hitting at all. Following up his jab with a pair of rapid fire lunges to her face, Taylor brought up her arms to protect her face, only to get another jab in the side for her troubles. It didn't hurt too bad; Sophia had done worse with her body checks more than once, but that didn't make it painless.

For next few minutes, Six just advanced forwards, pushing Taylor back and forth across the yard as he threw jabs and feints at her to block, occasionally moving to either side to herd her around the yard and throw her off balance.

"Not bad. You've got potential, at least." He finally said, dropping his fists as Taylor gratefully did the same. "Just make sure that your arms are close enough to your sides and head that you can turn to protect them, and you'll be alright. Most everything beyond that is just learning to react and dodge or block. Not really something you can _teach_ , just a lot of practice."

"...I think I'm good. For tonight." Taylor panted, her forearms sore.

"Your loss." Six shrugged. "May as well go over a few pointers for using those knuckles, too. Firstly; make sure you hit with the knuckles, not your fingers. As if that wasn't obvious. I dunno how many dumbasses I've seen break their hand cuz they don't know how to punch right, though, so I guess it's worth mentioning. Here, just take a swing at me, I'll tell you what you're doing right and wrong."

Hesitantly, Taylor squared up again, gripping the pair of spiked knuckles tightly.

"Keep your arm straight, knuckles to elbow. You're basically trying to push them into your target with the heel of your hand."

Taylor adjusted her grip slightly, slowly approaching Six. He patted his chest, giving her a thumbs up. Silently, Taylor mentally chanted the tips he had given her so far: _Pivot on your foot when you punch; Push with the heel of your hand, not the fingers; Arm straight, elbow to fingers._

Taking a deep breath, she drew her fist back. For a moment, Taylor imagined the faces of the trio painted across Six's chest: Sofia and that perpetual scowl of hers, Madison and her cutesy 'schoolgirl' look she used to charm the teachers, and Emma…

That damn smile of hers, cruel and petty; the one that told you that she knew all your most embarrassing secrets and the best way to turn them against you.

She lunged forward, her eyes unconsciously clenched shut. A jolt shot up her arm; not necessarily painful, but not a pleasant sensation either. Six let out a low grunt, slowly exhaling.

"Not bad, kid… You could leave some solid bruises with a punch like that." He praised; Taylor smiled, just a bit. "Still needs some improvement, but I wasn't expecting you to pick it up nearly as fast as you are. Now that you've got the basics, it's just a matter of practice.

Taylor opened her mouth to reply, but got cut short as a muffled digital beep rang out from Six's coat. Muttering to himself, Six fished out a blocky looking cell phone and flipped it open. For a moment, he was quiet, and Taylor could imagine his eyes flitting back and forth as he read the phone's message. Finally, with a grunt of acknowledgement, he flipped the phone closed, slipping it back into his jacket.

"Looks like that _'Tattletale'_ girl's got our reward ready. You wanna come with me when I go pick it up?"

Taylor blinked.

"Uh… Sure, I guess. When are you meeting her?"

"Message said this time tomorrow, at a warehouse down in the docks; don't see any reason why she'd try to double-cross us, but that doesn't mean she won't for sure. Still interested?"

"Why would the Undersiders be planning to betray us?"

"I don't trust that 'Tattletale'; she's too confident for her own good. Reminds me of Benny, actually, if he were a bit smarter." Six let out a quiet sigh. "I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up trying to manipulate us into something, dunno what that might be though. You ought to stay cautious around her."

Taylor nodded solemnly, more or less in agreement with Six's opinion.

"I will."

Looking up at the sky, it suddenly occurred to her how late it was getting. It had taken her a while to find Six's address, and while it wouldn't take quite so long to get back home, Taylor wanted to make sure she got home before her dad did, to avoid any unpleasant questions.

"I think I need to get going." She decided, pulling the spiked knuckles off of her fingers. "Here-"

"Keep 'em." Six waved dismissively. "You'll probably get more use out of them anyway. I've got my own backup if I need it. You can use those to practice with whenever you get a chance."

"Oh. Alright then." After a moment of indecision, Taylor slipped the knuckles into her pockets, one on each side. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Sounds like a plan, kid." Six agreed, trailing off. "Huh. Look at that, guess we did work out a plan, didn't we?"

Taylor resisted the urge to snort. _'Go and meet the Undersiders tomorrow to pick up their reward'_ wasn't much of a plan. Then again, she hadn't exactly specified how in depth the plan had to be, so she supposed the point went to Six in that regard.

"Fair enough." She admitted.

Waving goodbye to Six, Taylor unlatched the gate, retracing her steps back to the nearest bus stop to take her home. Her mind whirled with thoughts, questions, and ideas for whether she could, or even _should_ integrate Six's newest gift into her costume.

For the entire bus ride home, though, she never quite let go of the brass knuckles, her fingers idly playing over the outline they made in her pockets and taking comfort in their solid weight.

* * *

 **And, done. Took a while to get this out between tests and just not being happy with the chapter, but I'm at least reasonably confident about it as it stands now. I even did the math for whether Six's purchase was reasonable, and it all works out. A thirty-five pound bar of pure gold goes for almost 700k, and a house in New Jersey averages around 300k. Maybe it's a little simplified, but between that and the presumable state of BB's economy/housing market, I consider it enough evidence in favor of if someone offers you a bar of pure gold for the house you were already trying to sell, you take the gold and don't ask questions.**

 **Besides that, though, not much else to say; A little less action, a little more character interaction. I'm as happy as I can be with it without taking another month to rewrite the entire chapter from scratch.**


	17. Chapter 13

Taylor slipped into an alley, calling on her power to scout out the area for anybody who might be following her. The senses of her insects weren't amazing, not enough to spy on conversations particularly well or identify someone who was trying not to be found for example, but it was enough to get an general idea of movements and differentiate between people and smaller creatures. Extending her range to its maximum, Taylor zeroed in on any out of the ordinary contacts. In one warehouse, a couple buildings over, she spied a couple of bodies. Still alive, based on their breathing and infrequent twitches, but nearly motionless. Taylor's insects didn't sense any blood, but they did pick up strange chemical odors wafting off the bodies. Taylor grimaced.

 _Druggies._ Probably Merchants, getting high off their own stash. Regardless, they were inconsequential; so strung out on whatever they'd taken that there was no way they'd be awake before she and Six were done with the Undersiders.

Turning her attention elsewhere, Taylor spotted a collection of bodies on the roof of a different building, in the opposite direction of the druggies. Four people, and few smaller bodies. _Dogs?_ Something of the sort; they were too small to be more people. The figures seemed relatively at ease, as far as she could tell. Making one more scan of the area, Taylor crouched down and unslung her backpack, as confident as she could be that she was alone as she pulled out her costume. The bodysuit came first, the armor plates she had managed to finish sewn onto the chest. They were more decorative than anything at the moment, but with enough time they'd make for decent protection. Maybe she should see if Six had any spare armour of some kind? His costume had a pretty beefy looking bulletproof vest, he might have a spare she could use.

Quickly pulling off the hoodie, shirt, and jeans she had been wearing, Taylor slipped on the silk underlayer, zipping it up to her neck. Then came the mask; trading her glasses for the prescription lenses she had sealed into the goggles. Taylor adjusted the straps, making sure her hair was able to flow freely between them. Her mask properly adjusted, she pulled out the coat.

It was _her_ coat now, wasn't it? Six had all but implicitly given it to her now, seeing as how he hadn't made any mention of wanting it back yet. Taylor pulled on the duster, the thick leather fluttering slightly as she did. It occurred to her to strike a heroic pose for a moment, but she dismissed the thought with a smirk. Fun as it might be, she was trying to keep a low profile at the moment.

Costume donned, Taylor stuffed her old outfit into the now vacated backpack, commanding a swarm of wasps and spiders into the outer pockets. She was fairly confident that no one would find the bag if she stashed it in the alley, but it didn't hurt to be sure. If anyone tried to snatch her stuff before she got back, they'd get a nasty surprise instead. All that was left now was to wait for Six to show up.

Focusing back on the furthest scouts in her swarm, Taylor spotted a figure on the outermost edges of the bugs' senses, moving in her direction at a slow jog. The figure was too bulky to be any random passerby, and none of the capes she could think of would have any good reason to be this deep in gang territory. Except for Six.

Taylor quickly mapped out a path with her bugs, finding a route that would let her intercept Six's path, if she hurried. Running through the back alleys of the docks, Taylor let her mind wander. _How should she act during the meeting?_ Should she try to be imposing and scary? The Undersiders _were_ villains… Then again, that Tattletale girl would probably see through any attempt to deceive them. Mind reader or not, the girl was obviously some sort of Thinker. Taylor decided that it would probably be best to just talk as little as possible. She didn't want to accidentally slip up and give Tattletale some piece of important information that allowed her to deduce Taylor's name, face, address, and/or Social Security Number. Maybe that was paranoid, but she figured it was better to err on the side of caution in this case.

Coming to the end of the alleyway just as Six was about to pass it, Taylor poked her head out, discreetly waving Six over.

"Hey kid," He said after a moment, "Good to see you made it."

Taylor gave him a thumbs up, trying to keep her breathing even. She wasn't nearly as out of shape as she had been weeks ago, but that didn't necessarily mean she was _in_ shape.

"Or, guess I should call you Cazador, huh?" Six continued, oblivious. "Now that we're here, we just gotta find those Undersider kids. You got any ideas?"

"Yeah," Taylor nodded, still a bit out of breath, "I found them on the roof a few buildings over. They're just waiting for us; I didn't see any ambushes or traps."

"Nice," Six nodded, clapping Taylor on the shoulder. "Good work, _Madame Cazador._ "

He snorted, and Taylor couldn't help but smile herself.

"...Yeah, that just feels kind of weird. I think I'm just gonna keep calling you Kid. You alright with that, Kid?"

Taylor shrugged, nodding slightly.

"Sure, I guess. As long as you aren't using my actual name."

"Works for me." Six cracked his knuckles, reaching into his jacket to pull out a pistol. Quickly checking the chamber, he holstered it on his hip, the metal grip gleaming slightly in the sun. "Well, I'm ready. Lead the way, kid."

Taylor eyed Six's weapons carefully as they walked. Besides his pistol, he had some sort of pump-action shotgun slung over his shoulder, the stock and foregrip painted in a reedy green camouflage pattern.

"Are you expecting a fight?" She finally asked.

"No," Six replied, "But it doesn't hurt to show off a bit. Make an impression now, and they'll be less likely to fuck with us in the future. Besides, I've got bean bag shells loaded right now. Even if we do end up in a fight, I don't need dead kids on my conscience."

Nodding, Taylor went quiet. Six, once again, had a good point.

"This is it." She finally said, as they came to the base of a fire escape. "This should let us climb up to the roof; the Undersiders are already up there."

"Alright…" Six trailed off. "...You wanna go first?"

Taylor gave him a flat look.

"...Right." Six sighed, jumping up on to the steel ladder. Taylor could hear him grumbling as she followed behind. _"I do not fuckin' like heights. Especially when I'm on these rickety-ass catwalks…"_

"You're seriously afraid of heights?"

" _Afraid_ of heights? No. _Suspicious?_ Yes."

Taylor resisted the urge to laugh. Mostly.

"You try running across rusted, broken down catwalks that could give out at any moment," Six sniped, "I've still got bad memories from the _Madre_."

Taylor was still chuckling when they reached the roof; quickly suppressing any lingering amusement as she saw the Undersiders in person.

At the front was Tattletale herself, her confident smirk more than enough to remind Taylor why she didn't like the villain. To her right and left were a couple of guys, one in black leathers and the other dressed like a ren-faire reject. Sitting on the other side of the roof was a girl in a dog mask, paying more attention to the dogs Taylor had spotted earlier than them, though she did turn to watch as she and Six climbed onto the roof.

"Good to see you guys made it," Tattletale smirked, unslinging a black backpack and tossing it to Six. "That should cover what our boss promised you, plus a little extra from me and the boys, as thanks for saving our asses."

Catching the bag one-handed, Six unzipped it; Taylor could see a dozen or so stacks of bills, wrapped up in neat piles. For a few moments, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, the assembled Undersiders waiting with bated breath as Six assessed the reward. The girl with the dogs, on the other hand, paid them no attention.

"...Cool." Six finally said, zipping the bag back up and holding it out to Taylor. "You mind holding this, kid?"

Taylor took the bag, nearly fumbling it as she did. An entire bag of cash was surprisingly light. That, or there was way less in the bag than she thought there would be. As she slung it over one shoulder, the guy in leather stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"Courier Six, my name's Grue." His voice was deep and slightly echo-y, reverberating out from his helmet. "I wanted to thank you personally for saving the rest of my team and I the other day."

"Not a problem." Six made a quick, two-fingered salute. "Always happy to earn some extra money."

Tattletale snorted.

"Really? And here I was thinking you did it out of the goodness in your heart."

"Well, that too. I'm not heartless." Six chuckled. "Well, actually, _I am_ , if you're talking literally…"

Taylor saw Tattletale wince almost imperceptibly, the villain chuckling unsteadily, Grue and her other companion giving her odd looks as the rooftop quieted to an awkward silence.

After a moment, it was the girl with the dogs of all people who broke the silence. Standing up from her corner of the roof, she stalked slowly but purposefully towards Six with a pillowcase clutched in one hand; the closed end bulged with something, rustling quietly as she moved. She stopped a few feet away, inclining her head deferentially as she did.

"You killed Hookwolf." She said simply. More a statement of fact than question.

"...Yyyes?" Six drawled.

Taylor noticed he had one hand resting on his pistol, not quite gripping it. The rest of the Undersiders looked equally uneasy. Tattletale herself was watching the entire exchange with a tense curiosity.

"You have his mask. Let me see it."

For a moment, Six was motionless, his head cocked in thought. Finally, he shrugged, seemingly placated. Slowly and deliberately reaching into his jacket, he pulled out the metallic wolf mask that had once belonged to Hookwolf; tossing it to the girl. Catching it one-handed, she held it up to the light as if appraising it. Turning back to Six, she tossed the bag in her other hand over, nodding.

"Good job."

With that, she turned back to her dogs, tossing the mask to them as she did. The dogs, for their part, were all too happy to play with their new 'toy', setting upon the mask with vigor as they began to chew on it.

"...Well, I suppose that's Bitch, for introduction's sake." Tattletale finally said with a weary sigh. "I knew you made an impression on her, but even I wasn't sure just what to expect from her."

"Hmph, yeah," The boy next to Grue snorted, "I was half expecting her to tackle you to the ground right there and then and-"

" _Enough, Regent."_ Tattletale spun around to glare at the boy. "I _really_ do not need that image in my head right now."

The boy grunted, amused, waving Tattletale off.

"Right..." Tattletale groaned, turning back to Six. "And that's Regent, our last member. Just ignore him; he's our team idiot."

At that, Regent mimed clutching at his heart.

"Oh, you wound me!"

"You'll live," Tattletale said simply, "But seeing as we've been so kind as to tell you our names, maybe you'd be willing to return the favor?"

Taylor blinked, looking up at Six. He turned to look over at her, his head cocked curiously. It took her a moment to realize he was waiting for her opinion. Or maybe waiting for her to go first. Should she? Every word could be one more scrap of information Tattletale could use against her. Or was she just being paranoid? You couldn't be sure when it came to thinkers...

"You can relax, you know. I'm just trying to be polite to a couple of potential future allies is all."

Taylor's head whipped up to stare at Tattletale, the villain grinning smugly.

"Alright, maybe not allies. Friends? Associates?"

Taylor's eyes narrowed.

"Honestly, I get that you don't trust us, but the silent act doesn't suit you."

Taylor blinked. _Right._ She hadn't actually said anything yet, had she?

"Oh." She mumbled. "Uh…"

Tattletale laughed

"Don't worry, I'm just jerking you around a bit. "

Glaring, Taylor bit back a growl; this girl seemed to have a knack for grating on her nerves in a distinctly 'Emma' shaped way, what with how this complete stranger seemed to know so much about her already.

"Did you have anything else to say, or are you just wasting time on purpose?" Taylor finally ground out.

"Alright, alright, you got me; I've got a message to pass on to Courier Six too. Our boss wants to if you'd be interested in working for him again in the future."

"Depends." Six grunted. "What's he offering?"

"You'll have to ask him yourself. I'm just the courier." Tattletale winked. "He only told me to ask whether you were interested. I'll take it that's a yes?"

Six grunted.

"Fair enough," Tattletale sighed, "Anyway, he already knows your number, so you'll probably get a message from him sooner rather than later. Bitch?"

Bitch stood and let out a piercing whistle, her dogs quickly perking up in response. Taylor watched, fixated, as they twisted and mutated, growing into monstrous beasts that the Undersiders quickly climbed on top of, straddling the creatures like they were giant, mutated horses.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other sooner or later," Tattletale called out, "Of course, next time probably won't be so cordial. Ta-ta!"

With that, the Undersiders were gone, leaving Taylor and Six alone on the rooftop.

"...Huh." Six sighed. "That was… Something."

He shrugged, sitting down where he was.

"Anyway, let's see what we've got here. Let me see that bag, kid."

Taylor obliged. She stood there awkwardly for a moment, not really sure what to do as Six emptied the backpack, a couple dozen or so bundles of cash piling up into a small mountain. He let out a low whistle, and looking at the pile in front of her, Taylor had to agree.

"Not a bad pay for an honest night's work, wouldn't you say?" Six elbowed her side good-naturedly. "Haven't even seen the bounty that Lung guy had, so we've got that to look forward to, too."

Gathering up the collected money into a single, relatively neat stack, Six began distributing it all into two piles, moving with all the speed and accuracy of a professional gambler dealing cards. When he had finished, Taylor found herself with a half dozen stacks of bills, totalling about five thousand dollars by a rough count. Taylor stared numbly at the money; at _her_ money, as Six gathered up his own share and stuffed it into his coat. Quietly, Taylor grabbed the backpack Tattletale had left, and filled it with her share.

This was a lot of money. _A lot_ of money. But it came from villains. Was it wrong to take money from villains for sparing them like that? Assuming Tattletale had been telling the truth, (a tough pill to swallow in and of itself) it wasn't like she and Six could have taken them in anyway, but-

"You alright there kid? You're acting a little quiet."

Taylor blinked, Six's gloved hand waving inches from her face.

"...Yeah." She sighed. "Just… Surprised, is all. Doesn't really feel like I did a lot to deserve all this, I guess."

"Maybe not to you," Six countered, "But I happen to appreciate the help in keeping my ugly mug from getting any uglier."

Taylor snorted.

"Anyway, you'd be surprised how many people get affected by the stuff you do everyday. Never know when you'll catch some jackass's attention just cuz you scratched your ass at the wrong time or something."

"...Does that happen a lot?"

"It's happened at least once, which is one time more than it should have, in my opinion. Hell, maybe there's some guy out there right now plotting my death. I've probably pissed off at least a few people enough to justify it."

' _The Empire.'_ Taylor thought silently, _'Lung, and the ABB by extension. They'll probably want me dead by association. Should we go three for three and piss of the Merchants too?'_

"Are you going to do anything about them?"

"Eh, probably not. My usual method of 'doing something about it' involves shooting the person in question, but the PRT guys get cranky when I do that, so I don't really have any other options."

"There's got to be other ways to do it without killing people, though..."

"Yeah?" Six sighed, and pulled out a pair of brown bottles, twisting the cap off of one. "Well, if you find one, make sure you tell me. Sarsaparilla?"

Blinking, Taylor took the bottle, studying the yellow label. It didn't look alcoholic or anything. Wasn't sarsaparilla basically just another name for root beer? She twisted off the cap, sniffing it cautiously.

It smelled like root beer.

Shrugging, she pulled her mask up, just far enough to uncover her mouth, and took a sip.

It was root beer. Flat, but it was definitely root beer.

"It's root beer." She confirmed.

"Yeah. You were expecting something different?"

"Maybe?" Taylor shrugged. "I'm not sure what I expected."

Six groaned good naturedly.

"Oh, have a little more faith, will you? I got your back kid."

Taylor went quiet, looking down at the bottle as his words echoed in her mind.

"Thanks, Six. I really appreciate that."

"Not a problem, kid."

Downing the last of his drink, Six chucked the empty bottle over the edge of the roof, the glass shattering on the concrete below.

"Well, I ought to get going, if there's nothing else to be done. You got things under control?"

Taylor glanced down at the backpack full of money by her side.

"...Yeah. I think so. See you around, Six."

Taylor watched Six as he climbed down the fire escape, following him with her insects until he was out of her range.

And then she was alone.

Finishing her own drink and watching the sun set over the boat graveyard, Taylor shrugged and tossed the empty bottle over the edge, listening to it as it clattered against the ground below. It wasn't like there were any trash cans around, and what was one more broken bottle when the streets and alleys of the city were literally overflowing with trash in some parts of the city?

Slinging her backpack full of dubiously acquired cash over her back, Taylor made her way back to the bag filled with her civilian clothes; thankfully, it was still untouched, and she quickly changed back into her regular outfit. Taking a moment to transfer the money into her less suspicious looking bag, Taylor set back for home, a little spring in her step, and a hint of a smile on her face.

Maybe, for once in such a long time, things were looking up.

* * *

 **And done.  
Had trouble focusing on this chapter for some reason. Spent the whole damn day yesterday just watching youtube. Wasn't even watching funny videos or anything, just clips of old shows. Blegh. Had to force myself to sit down to get this chapter out the damn door because it'd been sitting 90% done for like a week. Not writer's block or anything, for the most part. Just didn't feel like writing, I guess? I dunno. It's no fun though. Maybe it's cuz I was also putting off other stuff that I really shouldn't be putting off.  
Ah well. Nothing much more to say, plot-wise, so enjoy!**


	18. Interlude 3-1

Lisa laid in her bed, idly tapping out a pattern on her phone. She knew Coil would be calling soon, and she knew what he would be calling about.

Courier Six, that enigma of a cape; her boss had made it quite clear that he was interested in potentially hiring the Bay's newest mercenary cape, and had _'asked'_ her, in his own special way, to pass along the sentiment. No big deal, for the most part. It wasn't as if it were the first time.

The thing was, though, that he had decided to make first contact through _her._ That meant she knew something that he didn't, and Lisa fully intended to milk that advantage for every last drop it could give. So of course she was faced with a simple question: What did she tell Coil?

Giving him the straight truth was basically the same as just giving up; not an option. She couldn't tell an outright lie either, though. Coil, damn him, had his ways. He'd catch any less than the perfect lie sooner or later, which meant she'd need to pull out all the stops.

She wouldn't have much wiggle room for bending the truth; A few half-truths here, a particular choice of words there, and that was all she could do. She didn't doubt that a potential showdown between Six and Coil would be a toss-up at best. Six had a powerful spread of abilities and enough skill to put them to use; enough to beat just about anyone in the city in a one-on-one confrontation, given enough preparation. But Coil wasn't stupid. He wouldn't fight someone alone if they were a basket of kittens. He was paranoid; perhaps admirably so, if not for the fact that it made Lisa's life that much harder.

That said, the best way to leverage this to her own advantage, then, would be to make Six a sleeper agent of a sort. It wouldn't be too hard to turn Six against the man; he had his own set of principles, as odd as they were; ones which Coil was no doubt willing to violate given time.

Get Coil to drop his guard just long enough to have Six twist the knife in her stead. Crude? Yes. Effective? Hopefully. It wouldn't be as satisfying as if she killed him herself, perhaps, but if the end result was Coil dead and her not dead, then her happiness was a secondary concern.

Thankfully, that answered the question of what to tell the boss quite tidily as well. She simply had to tell him what he wanted to hear. Six was already an effective potential asset; anyone who could kill Hookwolf and disable Lung nearly single handedly would be, and Coil was smart enough to recognize it. Courier Six was a massive sledgehammer, poised to upset the delicate balance of the Bay's gangs, and it seemed everyone who recognized that was trying to get him on their side. If he had been any regular old murderous vigilante, he would've been hurled into prison, or possibly press-ganged into the Protectorate the night he killed one of the Empire's major players. That he was not only free, but openly affiliated with them was telling. Someone, somewhere in the power structure recognized that they were better off with him than against him. It didn't explain why he had been given such a long leash by the PRT, though. They were more about maintaining the status quo, and Six was the exact opposite of conducive to that particular goal.

The sudden ringing of the phone jolted Lisa out of her thoughts. _Showtime._

Accepting the call, Lisa called upon all her knowledge and power-enhanced self awareness to keep her voice neutral.

"Boss."

" _Tattletale."_ His voice came out equally neutral, and yet _god_ it sent shivers down her spine. Maybe it was the fact that she knew exactly how ruthless the voice's owner was, her power helpfully informing her of _everything_ he'd be willing to do her if she ever let him disappear her entirely. _"I assume your meeting went well. Did you pass my offer along to Courier Six?"_

"Yeah. He's interested, so long as you can pay."

" _Excellent. What can you tell me of the man himself?"_

Breathing deeply, Lisa pinched the bridge of her nose. This was where her plan would be made or broken.

"He's… Basically a complete sociopath. No problems when it comes to killing, and he's got very little in the way of principles; about what you'd get if you gave one of those mercenaries of yours powers, really. He doesn't particularly care about the PRT as far as I can tell, but they've got something he really wants, some sort of Tinkertech, so he's set on staying on their good side for the time being. He's loyal to his allies, though, so as long as you keep paying him, he'll do what you tell him." Lisa paused, taking a moment to marshall her thoughts. "On the other hand, If he thinks he's been betrayed, he'd probably rip apart the whole city and anyone or anything in between him and whoever he's hunting to get revenge."

Coil was silent for a long moment, and Lisa was practically sweating bullets as she waited for him to call out her bullshit.

" _...I see. Good work."_

Lisa sagged, exhaling silently. He'd bought it, at least for now.

" _What about his equipment? What sort of Tinker support have you found?"_

Lisa knit her eyebrows, her power feeding what answers it could.

"I've seen mentions of a group called _Big Empty_ that he's apparently partnered with during my research; some sort of Toybox analogue. I've got nothing else to go on for them, besides that they supply Courier Six, and whatever they're paying him, it's more than you can afford to pay him. That reward we gave him was chump change to what he has."

Coil made an unhappy grunt through the speaker.

" _Could that create a conflict of interest?"_

"Not likely. He's... Separated from them, somehow. That's why he's been so active in the Bay. That Tinkertech he wants from the PRT, it's his connection to them."

" _The PRT confiscated it, then?"_

Coil's tone had changed subtly. Oh, he was _interested_ , wasn't he?

"No… Maybe. It's broken. _That's_ why the PRT's giving him special treatment!" Lisa nearly shouted her revelation, the pieces clicking into place. "They want first dibs at whatever Big Empty might be selling. Something Courier Six showed them; they want it for themselves."

" _...Intriguing. What do you know of what it might be?"_

Lisa winced as she felt the first hints of a headache, information rolling in through her power as it followed logical trains of thought. Hopefully she could get Coil off her back before she ended up crippled by migraines for the rest of the day.

"Some sort of weapon. Something that could put a standard trooper on the same level as a Parahuman. Tinkertech… Some sort of mass-production Tinker."

There was a moment of silence, Coil tapping away at a keyboard in the meantime; searching for something he could leverage over Six.

" _Very well then. What of his new partner? Is she affiliated with Big Empty as well?"_

"...No, she's just a standard cape. She's incredibly loyal to Courier Six, though; owes him her life. Their partnership was a hell of a coincidence; first night as a cape, and she went after Lung the same time we hired Courier Six to save us."

" _And her personality? Would her presence cause any issues with employing Courier Six?"_

"Not particularly. She's too loyal to Courier Six to question him to his face. If you convince him to take a job, she'll almost definitely follow. He won't do anything she'd object to anyway, to stay on the PRT's good side."

Coil grumbled quietly on the other end of the line, still typing on his computer.

" _Could Courier Six be convinced to turn against the Protectorate?"_

Lisa put a hand to her temple. Her headache was getting worse. She wouldn't be able to carry on much longer, and no matter what, she was going to be out of it when this was all said and done.

"Not… Not unless you can convince him you have a faster and easier way to fix his device. Some sort of… Teleportation device? But not... - _Ngh!"_

Lisa clutched at her head. She wasn't quite collapsed, but the migraine had left her bent over, her vision was tunneling, and her stomach was putting up a fit. On the other end, Coil was silent for a moment, before finally speaking.

" _I see. Very well, Tattletale. That will be all for today. I want your team to maintain cordial relations with Courier Six and his partner in the future. Insinuate yourselves as trustworthy associates. I will contact him with a proper employment offer through other means."_

With that, he hung up. Grateful, Lisa flung the phone into the wall as she stumbled into the bathroom, collapsing at the base of the toilet. Her head hurt. Her stomach hurt. Everything was pain. Still though, her heart fluttered with thrill. He had bought it; or rather, he had bought it enough that she was safe for the moment. Even while retching over the toilet, Lisa couldn't wipe the hints of a smirk off her face. Step one of her plan was done, now she just had to execute the other ninety-nine and change steps perfectly.

Simple, really.

* * *

 **Sorry for the long wait for so little, but school's been a pain, and things are shifting into preparing for the end of the semester, so you know how it gets. I just sort of lost inspiration to write, period, somewhere along the way, and my seeming inability to even start on work for no reason wasn't helping at all. Things still aren't great now, but at least you all know that I'm not dead.**

 **On the bright side, I actually got, like, a third of the way through the next chapter before realizing I had forgotten to write this, so maybe I'll have the next chapter done quick. On the flip side, I ended up rushing this particular chapter out, and I think it shows, both in length and quality, but c'mon; April Fools was the perfect opportunity!**

 **Anyway, long story short, not actually dead, just very busy with real life stuff and also executive dysfunction. Next chapter coming soon as it can. Maybe one day I'll actually be able to keep a reliable posting schedule.**


	19. Chapter 14

**HAHA! YOU ALL FELL FOR MY TRUE APRIL FOOLS PRANK! YOU THOUGHT I HAD ONLY ONE CHAPTER FOR YOU, BUT IN REALITY I HAD TWO! YOU FOOLS WERE FOOLISHLY FOOLED BY ME!**

 _ **(Let's just all collectively ignore the calendar that says it's April second or third right now, depending on where you live. Enjoy!)**_

* * *

Dinah skidded around another corner dashing into the alley as fast as her legs would carry her. Behind her, the voices of her pursuers were only growing louder. She frantically quizzed her power for an escape route, wincing as it sent a wave of pain through her skull.

 _Eighty-seven percent chance of escaping if I go left._

Taking as tight a turn as she could, Dinah sprinted for her life. She couldn't keep going much longer; her vision was tunneling, her lungs and legs burning as fatigue finally started to catch up with her. She had to be close, right? Her power said there was something that could save her back here, and it hadn't been wrong yet. Coming to a stop at a junction, she called on her power again, bracing herself for the pain.

 _Chances of escaping if I go left?_

 _Zero Percent._

Definitely not left, then.

 _Chances if I go right?_

 _Zero Percent._

Her blood froze. What changed?

Her power had been confirming this path up until the last turn, and there hadn't been any other side alleys to take, but now it was telling to stop running. Whatever, or whoever it was, they were in the alley behind her. Turning around, she scanned the alley for anything that might help, maybe a hidden passageway of some sort.

No. Nothing of the sort, just trash, vermin, and some homeless guy digging through a dumpster, his feet sticking over the edge as he dug around.

 _A cape!_

Dinah looked up at the rooftops. Everyone knew capes tended to travel by rooftop to get around faster. Her power must have been guiding her to run through an alley just as a hero was passing by.

"Help! Someone!" She cried. "Please!"

She collapsed against one wall, clenching her eyes shut as she panted and shivered. She didn't have any other options. She couldn't run any more, and from the sounds of men barking into radios, she wouldn't be able to escape even if she could. Slowly, biting back a sob, she slid to the ground, burning tears trailing down her cheeks. She heard a rustling sound, and cursing as a pair of booted feet hit the ground.

"Geez… Need some help there kid?"

Her eyes flying open, Dinah gasped as she looked up at the man before her, coat, helmet and all. For a moment, just a moment, she dared to hope.

 _Chances this man can save me?_

She could almost swear her power took just a bit longer to answer than usual, dragging out the suspense for another half-second.

 _Ninety-five percent._

She let out a cry of joyous relief, practically flinging herself towards the man and grabbing on to his leg.

"Please! I need help!"

She felt the man jump back a half-step with surprise as she did, but she didn't care. As long as she survived today, that was all she needed.

"Whoah, whoah! What's got you so terrified, kid? Lose something important?"

His voice was warm and friendly, with a bit of a southern twang in it. Just before Dinah could answer him, though, her pursuers rounded the corner, shouting as the spotted her.

"Them!" She shrieked, clinging tighter to his leg and trying to think of something to convince him to help her. "N-Ninety-seven percent chance that they're going to kidnap me!"

The man was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was ice cold.

" _Ninety-seven percent, huh?"_ He murmured, guiding her behind him as he turned to face the group of men chasing her.

"Sir," The lead one began, "Please step away from the girl. She's a runaway; we're here to bring her back home."

"Really?" Her savior replied sociably. Idly, Dinah realized that the man was, in fact, a cape: She had managed to run into Courier Six, the guy who had killed Hookwolf a few weeks back. "Five guys, each one carrying more gear than the average Ranger Vet all to take one little girl home? Seems a little overkill if you ask me."

"Our employer is very concerned with ensuring she returns safe and sound. If you come with us, I'm sure he would be more than willing to compensate you for your help."

"Is that so?" Courier Six lifted his arms, stretching his shoulders. "Cuz as it happens, the girl in question has just informed me that you gentlemen were planning to kidnap her, and I can't say I particularly like that idea."

"She's obviously been lying to you, sir. I can assure you, we only-"

"Runaway children don't cling to your leg and beg you to help them." Six cut him off, his stance widening a fraction. "I've got a bit of a hunch that it probably wouldn't be for the best to let you boys take her, even if you are telling the truth."

For a long moment, the alley was silent. Dinah couldn't see the kidnapper's face under his helmet and ski-mask-thing, but the way his head was tilted suggested that he was listening to something she couldn't hear, probably some sort of radio earpiece.

Suddenly, the kidnapper raised his rifle, taking aim at Six's head; the others behind him quickly followed suit. Dinah ducked behind his jacket, covering her head with her arms.

"Final chance. Leave the girl, or we will fire."

"Funny," Six drawled, shifting subtly, "I was just about to say the same thing…"

Before Dinah could even register what Courier Six had just said, he moved.

Five rapid fire bangs rang out, each one rocking Dinah's ears and making her already splitting headache even worse. A moment later, she heard the sound of bodies hitting the ground; a moment after that, she heard the clinking of brass casings against the concrete.

Peeking out from behind Six's leg, she saw the bodies of her kidnappers, five bodies with five clean holes in their foreheads, blood and grey matter trickling out of their freshly ventilated craniums. Dinah turned away before the sight made her sick, burying her face in his side with a sob.

 _She was alive. Safe._

"Thank you!" She bawled, repeating the words over and over. "Thank-youthankyou _thankyou!"_

She felt Courier Six patting her back consolingly.

"Easy there, kid. Don't worry, I'll get you out of here." Gently, he pried Dinah off his side, crouching down and patting her shoulder. "Takes a special kind of sick fuck to hurt kids. I ain't nearly that depraved. Why were those guys chasing you anyway? Rich parents?"

Sniffling, Dinah wiped her tears away with her arm.

"I… I think they must have known I'm a parahuman… Somehow. They wanted my power, I guess…"

"Parahuman, huh? You mean that thing you were saying about the percentage?"

"Y-yeah… It tells me the ch-chances of something when I ask it questions."

As the adrenaline began to wear off, Dinah started to realise how bad she felt. She was shaking, couldn't even get a full sentence out without stuttering, and her headache was sending waves of agony through her skull. She couldn't help but moan, clutching at her head in agony.

"Whoah there kid, you're looking a little out of it." Six held a hand on her shoulder, steadying her as she nearly bent double. "You didn't get hit, did you?"

"No…" Dinah ground out, "Headache. From power."

"Oh. Sounds bad. Here, I know a good headache cure."

Pulling out a soda bottle, a small syringe, and a colorful tin with "Mentats" written across the lid, Courier Six quickly picked a couple of red pills out of the tin, crushing them in his hand and pouring the chalky powder into the bottle. Then, taking the syringe, he squeezed a few drops into the bottle before shaking the whole concoction.

"Here," He said, handing Dinah the bottle, "It's only a half dose of the chems, but you're a bit on the smaller side, so it should balance out."

Taking it, she gave the bottle a cursory investigation before shrugging. Her power had told her Courier Six was trustworthy, and she couldn't imagine why he would go to all that trouble to protect her from the kidnappers only to betray her. Sipping the liquid, she had to force down a reflexive cough.

"It's so bitter!" She coughed.

"Well, they don't call it Bitter Drink cuz of how sweet it is," Six chuckled, "The Mentats offset the taste a bit, give it a nice minty flavor but either way, it's pretty strong. Just down it as fast as you can, you'll feel better afterwards. The Mentats'll clear your head a bit and the little bit of Med-X in there should help with the pain."

Grimacing, Dinah steeled herself, trying get as much of the drink down as she could before she gagged.

"Can't drink any more," She gasped, her entire face scrunched up like she had eaten an entire lemon, "Eugh."

"Don't hurt yourself, kid." Standing back up, Courier Six checked his revolver, slowly loading bullets into it one by one. "Anyway, we'd better get out of here. I'd bet good money that we've got more of these guys headed our way. You know anywhere you'll be safe to stay until you're feeling better?"

"I'm… not sure," Dinah muttered, "Thirty-two percent chance of safety if I go home."

She winced, but true to his word Six's concoction had helped her headache a bit. She now merely had a debilitating headache, whereas earlier the pain had been more along the lines of 'her brain was moments away from exploding out through her ears'.

"So no going home, then," Six decided, "What about… I dunno. The PRT guys?"

"Eighty percent chance of safety if we go to the PRT Headquarters." Dinah furrowed her brow, thinking closely. "Ninety-five percent once I join the Wards."

"Whelp, sounds like a plan, then." Six nodded, reholstering his revolver. "You okay with that?"

"Mm-hm!" Giving him a sharp nod in return, Dinah steeled herself, and chugged the last of Six's medicine, suppressing a shiver and a grimace.

"Well, then let's go."

Getting to her feet, Dinah let out a huge yawn. Her legs and lungs were both still complaining from her earlier escape, and while the medicine helped, it also left her feeling tired and fuzzy. She stumbled forward, only for Six to put a hand out to catch her.

"Whoa there. You feeling okay?"

"Jus' tired," Dinah mumbled, "Had to run a long time."

"...Right. Well, you're obviously in no condition to be walking anywhere; here, hop on."

Turning around, Six crouched down, patting his shoulders. Dinah paused for a moment, thinking, before finally agreeing with his point. She didn't so much lean as slumped against his back and wrapped her arms around his neck, taking comfort in the man's bulk. With a slight grunt, Courier Six lifted the pair of them, casually strolling out of the alley where the five still cooling corpses laid. The PRT building was maybe thirty minutes away, twenty if she were running. It had been her ultimate goal before finding Six; but looking back she knew she never would have made it.

Weighing the risks, she decided to ask her power one more question as the two of them .

 _Chances of staying safe so long as I stay near Courier Six?_

 _Ninety-five percent._

The confirmation filled her with relief. So long as she was with Six, she was safe. Between the fuzzy feeling that left her tired and numb, and the still present headache from overusing her power, Dinah didn't feel like doing much else. She just wanted to take a nap, but she forced her eyes to stay open. Ninety-five wasn't one-hundred percent, and until she was confident that no-one was going to blindside them, she didn't want to let herself fall asleep.

"Hey, kid."

"Mm-hm?" Dinah shook her head, thankful for something to focus on to help her stay awake.

"Don't look, but there's a car following us a ways back. All black. Dark windows. Can you tell if those guys are going to attack us?"

Dinah winced a bolt of pain flashed through her skull, gone as quick as it came.

"Fifty percent chance they attack."

Six muttered darkly, reaching into his coat with one hand. A moment later, Dinah felt something being pressed into her palm.

"Take this; I can't fight and protect us from getting shot at the same time. If they do come after us, try to scare 'em off with this."

Holding up the object, Dinah saw the square, blocky object Six had given her. It was brutally simple, made of plastic and metal.

"Laser pistol," Six clarified, "Holds a couple dozen shots, it might not kill someone, but it'll leave 'em with some nasty burns."

Dinah nodded seriously, clutching the device tight in her hand. It was big and bulky, but not all that heavy, actually.

Soon, though, the vehicle Six had noticed cruised past the two of them a couple lanes over; a black SUV, the windows tinted so dark that she couldn't see through. She glared at the driver anyway. Based on the way Six moved his head, so did he. The van slowed for a moment, almost coming to a stop, but then sped off, picking up speed and turning the next corner.

"Huh." Six shrugged. "Guess we won the coin flip there, huh?"

Dinah hummed in agreement, still watching the corner where the SUV had disappeared, waiting for it to careen back around the corner and drop off more kidnappers, but none came. They crossed the street, and finally, the intersection was out of sight. Dinah let herself relax a fraction, but she still kept a vise-grip on the laser pistol Six had handed her. Even as Six started whistling a slow tune, she didn't want to let down her guard. Couldn't afford to let down her guard. Craning her head, she saw the same car again, slowly cruising up behind them, a second, similar van following behind it.

"See something?" Six twisted his head, trying to follow Dinah's line of sight.

"Behind us. Two vehicles," She grunted out, "Nin- _Ngh!"_ She nearly let go of Six, her hands instinctively moving to massage her temples. "Fifty percent chance… _Again."_

Six nodded quietly, and she felt his arm move to his revolver, still holstered under his jacket. Again though, the vehicles simply cruised past them; abnormally slow, but otherwise unremarkable. Even Six seemed a little confused as they passed, releasing his grip on his gun slowly, almost imperceptibly.

"Well… Lucky us." He muttered. "Let's not push our luck any further, yeah? The PRT's home base should be just a few minutes away."

Indeed, Dinah could see the top of the building poking over the roofs lining the street. They were only a couple blocks off now, practically home safe. Dinah kept her grip tight on the pistol, but she did let herself listen more closely to Six's humming. With the sedate tone and simple tune, it could've been a lullaby for all she knew, and Dinah found herself nodding along as they turned on to the street where the PRT HQ's front entrance was. Dinah had been here a few times before, during school trips to the building and a couple visits with her parents. The sight of it now, though, didn't fill her with excitement at the prospect of possibly meeting the Wards, or one of the Protectorate heroes, or even just browsing through the gift shop. It filled her with relief. As long as she stayed with them, and Six was nearby, she was as safe as she could be. Finally, Dinah let the tears come. Finally, after what had felt like hours, she was safe.

Six pushed the front doors open, and warm air washed over the both of them, a welcome change from the winter chill outside. Dinah could feel the wetness on her cheeks, the ache in her muscles from the day's events, and the headache that had followed her around practically since the day had started. She heard Six talking with the receptionist, but it was all white noise to her ears. Finally letting go of Courier Six, Dinah let herself fall back as oblivion took her.

* * *

 **People have asked how Six's luck stat will factor into the story, and after doing some thinking, I had a thought: Isn't it convenient that you just so happen to stumble into the Ultra-Luxe just in time to save Gunderson Jr. from Mortimer and the Cannibals? And that the Second Battle for Hoover Dam doesn't start until you're ready for it? And so on?**

 **Anyway, I figured that at least part of Six's luck stat is a tendency to be in the right place at the right time, entirely by coincidence, to, say, save a young parahuman girl from being kidnapped? Coil should have taken the initiative to contact Six when he had the chance to . ;)**

 **Anyway, I felt bad about posting kind of a piss poor example of an April Fool's joke, so take this better one instead. I'm also much happier with how it turned out, maybe cuz I had more inspiration to write it, but no matter how much of it I had written, I still had to post the Interlude before it, y'know? I was tempted to write another chapter where Taylor comes upon the Bank Heist just in time to help out the Wards while trying to deposit her share of the reward from the Undersiders, but I figured that might get some heat from the readers for just being a contrived reason to follow the stations of canon (which, admittedly, it sort of was). So none of that. Imagine the fight in your head if you want. I've got finals and whatnot coming up, so there might be another long-ish break before the next chapter while I focus on that, but I've got no plans to quit yet.**


	20. Chapter 15

Dinah awoke with a start, her skull echoing a dull pounding as she sat up. Slowly, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, looking around blearily.

She was in some sort of hospital bed, an IV drip stuck in her arm and a heart monitor attached to her chest, beeping in a steady rhythm. She considered pulling out the needle for a moment, but decided against it. It'd probably just cause more problems if she tried. The walls around her were a drab grey; completely featureless. The door, likewise, was smooth, unpainted metal, with no windows or any other features to suggest where she might be. Twisting on to her side, she looked over the edge, trying to find some clue as to where she was. The floor was plain white tile, like the sort they had in the hallways at school. There was a small table next to her bed, though. On it was a folded piece of paper, weighed down by a plastic water bottle. Stretching out her arm, Dinah grabbed both the note and the bottle, flipping open the paper to read the messy script inside.

 _Got you to the PRT guys. They said they'd take care of you. I'll hang around for a little while, until I'm sure you're alright. If you need help, just call._

 _-6_

Dinah let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, smiling wearily.

 _Safe._ She was safe.

With all her immediate questions answered, Dinah sat forward, taking stock of her situation. She was in the PRT building, and Courier Six was nearby. Probably. He said he was, and she wasn't eager to use her power to find out for sure. Honestly, she wasn't sure she particularly wanted to use her power at all anymore. Before Six had given her that medicine, she had honestly felt like her brain was going to melt and start leaking out of her ears; even now she still felt like Alexandria had been using her head to play football. Still, it _was_ better. _Marginally._

The question now was what to do. With her power… Her best chances were probably with the PRT, in the long term. If she had the choice, she would've given up her power and lived her life as a normal girl. Obviously, though, the gangs weren't going to just leave her alone because she asked. Six was clearly capable of protecting her if push came to shove, but he was only one guy. He still had to eat... And sleep...

Yeah, she'd be safer here, with the PRT. That way, she had someone to watch her back all the time. It might be cool to become a Ward, too; she'd always wanted to meet Vista, and Clockblocker seemed like a funny guy. Honestly, as long as no one was trying to kidnap her to do god knows what, she'd be happy. As she planned out how exactly she'd broach the topic to whoever she got a chance to talk to, she heard a commotion coming from the hall outside her room.

" _...-old you, she's my cousin. At least give me a chance to talk to her before you break out the spotlights and thumbscrews."_

Dinah found herself clutching the sheets as the doorknob jiggled, the door creaking open as her cousin, Rory stood in the doorway, red-faced, talking to some other guy she didn't recognize.

Huh. Now that she thought about it, she remembered her parents talking about how Rory had gotten a job at the PRT a while ago. He never talked about it much.

"Rory!" She gasped.

"Dinah!" He leaped forward, slamming the door behind him and wrapping her up in a hug. "I came as soon as I heard you were here. Are you alright? The doctors said you were stable, but your parents didn't even know you were here until I called them to ask about it."

Her parents… They were probably worried sick. She hadn't talked to them since they left for work that morning.

"I… I got attacked," she murmured, "By a bunch of guys with guns. I was at home; mom and dad were at work, they broke down the door."

Rory nodded, holding up a finger to stop her as he pulled out his phone, tapping a button on the screen and setting it on the bed between them.

"Sorry; figured my bosses are going to want to hear the story directly from you. This way, you don't have to repeat yourself quite as much. They'll probably want to interrogate you themselves later, once you're feeling better, but anything you can tell us now would help. Do you know who attacked you? Or why?"

Dinah shook her head.

"Dunno who… They were wearing all black, had, like, ski-masks or something covering their faces. They didn't say much, either. I think… I think they knew I had powers."

Rory's face went through a dozen different expressions over the course of a moment; surprise, fear, anger, amazement. Eventually, he devolved into a coughing fit, wheezing for several seconds.

"I… What? Since when? How?"

"Don't know," Dinah murmured, "A few weeks, maybe? Started seeing... probabilities, percentages in my head; got really bad headaches all the time." She winced, another wave of residual pain from her power overuse earlier pulsing in her head.

"Percentages, huh? For anything in particular, or…?"

"Anything." Dinah said flatly. "If it can be answered as a percent, then my power will tell me."

"Huh… So if I asked you, say, what are the chances that-"

" _DON'T!"_ Dinah shrieked, wincing as yet another pang lanced through her head. When she looked up, Rory had jumped back a bit, obviously taken aback. "...Sorry. Can't control it. Hurts if I use it too much."

"Ah… Right…" Rory murmured. At least he sounded apologetic about it. "So it'll kick in if you hear anyone ask a question, even if it's not directed at you or you don't want to answer?" She nodded. "I'll make sure to pass that on. Will you be okay to demonstrate your power later? Once you're feeling better?"

"I… Think so. Used it too much when I was running away; I don't want to use it anymore right now."

Rory nodded, patting her shoulder.

"Sounds like you might have some sort of Thinker power; I think I've heard that headaches like that are pretty common for them. We'll do it later, then." Looking around, he grabbed a chair, pulling it up next to her bed and sitting down. "Do you think you could tell me about how you got away? That Courier Six guy brought you in, but they want to make sure he didn't do anything to hurt you before they let him go."

Dinah nodded.

"He saved me. I was upstairs when those masked guys broke in; my power told me that the police wouldn't be able to help in time, so I climbed out the window, tried to run away." She swallowed, licking her lips as she relived those first terrifying moments.

Hearing the door slam open, wood shattering and feet stomping as men stormed into her house; the cold realization that there was no one around to help her. She blinked a few times, holding back tears as she recalled thinking that, whatever the strange men were doing in her house, she couldn't do anything about it. "After… After I started running, one of them saw me, I guess. Maybe there were more, I dunno. They started chasing me, and I started using my power to avoid them, asking it which ways were safe to go and which weren't. I guess it led me right to Six. He shot the guys that were chasing me and gave me some kind of medicine for my headache."

"And you just trusted him like that?" Rory's tone was dubious.

"My power said he could help me," She argued, "And I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Rory looked pained for a moment, sighing.

"Well, I guess I can't really blame you; Hindsight's twenty-twenty, and all that. What's important now is that you're safe. So he chased off the guys that attacked you, gave you medicine, and then what? Was there anyone else chasing you?"

"There were… A couple vans; all black windows, like the secret service or something," Dinah nodded, "They were following us for a while, but they stopped after we got close to the PRT building..."

* * *

"-And, well, I guess you guys know the rest. I brought the girl in, she collapsed, and everyone started shouting. And that brings us to now."

Colin sighed. Being one of the few people in Brockton Bay who knew of Six's true nature, as well as his position in the Protectorate seemed to have made him the PRT's unofficial liaison with the man.

 _Not like he had other duties to attend to._

"...Right. Well, assuming that you've been entirely truthful, we'll have to keep you here for the time being until Miss Alcott wakes up. You understand we'll need to corroborate your story with her. Also, if you have any more of those drugsyou gave her, we'd like to send them in for testing, so that we know what we're dealing with in case of an allergic reaction or any other side effects."

Six nodded, pulling a bright orange tin out of his coat and sliding it across the table.

"Fair enough. I wanted to make sure she was alright before I headed out anyway; here's some of the Mentats I gave her, too. I got plenty to spare."

Colin took the tin, inspecting it. With its bright colors and friendly packaging, one might mistake them for candies, or perhaps breath mints. It even had a nutrition facts chart on the back for the drugs.

"And these are common, where you come from?"

"More or less," Six shrugged, "Far as I know, they were pretty common pre-war, and once folks figured out the recipe post-war, they started cranking out even more."

Grunting, Colin set the tin to the side. Curious, sure, but something to consider another time.

"Right. Well, there was another reason I wanted to talk with you as well. I've been working on your…Teleportationdevice, with the assistance of Dragon, a colleague of mine." As he spoke, Colin tapped a series of commands into the touchpad built into his armor, initiating a connection with her lab in Vancouver. "She specializes in reverse engineering the work of other Tinkers, and when she learned about your situation, she was happy to offer her assistance."

As if on cue, one of the blank screens on the wall lit up with the coiled serpent symbol of 'DragonTech', the company she used in her dealings with the PRT and other government agencies.

"Good afternoon, Armsmaster," She began, "And you must be Courier Six. It's good to finally meet you."

"Dragon." Colin nodded, his mouth quirked.

Six nodded as well, turning to face the screen.

"Good to meet you too, ma'am. I'd offer to shake your hand, but…"

He trailed off, Dragon chuckling quietly.

"I appreciate the thought. Pleasantries aside though, I'm guessing this meeting is to discuss Courier Six's Transportalponder device?"

Colin nodded again.

"That's correct. I was just about to inform him how we've hit a snag with it."

"Ah, right…" Dragon's tone shifted, more apologetic now. "Well, Armsmaster and I have been disassembling the device, trying to figure out what exactly was broken. What we discovered is… Well, it isn't. With the exception of the power source, it isn't really even Tinkertech."

The room was silent for a moment, Six leaning forward with his head resting on his hands.

"...I feel like I've missed something here." He finally said. "Is that an issue? Should I be concerned?"

"Well… Yes and no," Dragon said contritely, "I suppose it would be silly to expect you to know recognize some cape related phrases. We use the term Tinkertech to describe devices and technology created by Tinkers, such as Armsmaster or myself. Tinkertech is unique in that their creators tend to be the only ones who understand how they're built and how they function, as opposed to normal technology which can be built by anyone with the relevant knowledge."

Six nodded quietly.

"Alright, yeah, I think I get it. Super advanced tech. Like, I could probably build a laser rifle on my own if I had all the parts and tools, and I get how they work, but I don't know how, say, my holorifle works. 'Totally Fucking Incomprehensible' certainly sounds like a good description for most Big Empty tech. Might as well be their damn motto." Sighing, Six looked back up at Dragon's screen. "Anyway, I'm detecting a _'but'_ there, somewhere."

"Perceptive," Dragon murmured, "But yes, you'd be correct. As we've discovered, the device itself is, essentially, a very big GPS beacon. When the trigger is pulled, it initiates a connection to a network of satellites, which transmit its location to, presumably, the actual device that performs the teleportation. The problem with this design is-"

"There's no satellites to connect to here." Six finished. "Since I'm here on another world with no Big Empty, there's no way to connect to home base, since I don't have any sort of… I dunno, _'cross-dimensional transmitter'_ doohickey?"

"Exactly."

Six sat quietly, leaning forward with his fingers steepled in concentration.

"Well… _Shit."_ His shoulders sagged, seemingly more exasperated than anything at the fact that he might never return to his own dimension. "So, what? Am I just out of luck, or do you guys have some sort of Tinkertech... _thing_ that can fix this?"

"We do have some ideas for how you might be able to return," Colin answered, "The fact that the teleporter was able to send you here implies that, should you manage to regain a connection with 'Big Empty', it should be able to send you home just as easily as it sent you here. That, however, assumes that it won't malfunction or simply refuse to work due to the additional variables that teleportation across dimensions would entail. I'd have to examine the teleporter itself to say for sure, although I have a theory that device might not work by teleportation, but rather a sort of wormhole-…"

Dragon cleared her throat meaningfully.

"Armsmaster…"

Colin blinked. _Focus._ There would be time for Tinker things later.

"Regardless," He continued, "Simply hoping that everything would work out in that scenario leaves too many variables to chance to be worth trying. That leaves the option of simply building our own cross-dimensional teleporter, and using it to connect with your Earth. That option poses several problems; the greatest of which being the legal and political red tape that we would have to bypass."  
"Red tape-?" Six grumbled. "For what? Don't tell me that this sort of interdimensional travel shit is _that_ common…"

"Not necessarily," Dragon murmured, "But it has happened. In the late eighties, a Tinker named Professor Haywire tore a hole between this Earth and another, Earth Aleph. When the two came into contact, it nearly started a war that we only narrowly avoided. We still maintain communications between the two Earths to exchange technology, media, and the like, but actual travel between dimensions isn't allowed. Professor Haywire's tech was seized by the government not long after, and right now it's being kept in secure storage. With Haywire's death a few years ago, our only option would be to reverse engineer it ourselves, and to do that, we'd need to gain access to it ourselves. Given your… _unique_ situation, and Armsmaster and I's relative positions of influence, it's not impossible that you might be able to garner enough support to bypass those restrictions and get us the clearance to access that tech, but, well… _Politics."_ She trailed off, her voice apologetic. "Even if you were able to get someone to support a change in the laws like that, or even just getting an exception granted for your specific circumstances, it would take months, maybe _years_ to get something like that pushed through Congress, and probably be subject to all sorts of restrictions."

Six seemed to slowly deflate, slouching forward as he let out a low groan.

" _Fucking. Bureaucracy."_ He finally grumbled. "On that note, what if I decided to just try taking-"

" _Don't."_ Armsmaster's voice was terse; carrying a sense of finality. "Even if I wasn't obligated to tell you not to do that as Protectorate employee, I would tell you that trying anything like that would be suicide. The security at such a site would be the absolute highest grade the U.S. Government could acquire: at least a small team of parahumans to detain anyone foolhardy enough to try a frontal assault and Tinkertech defenses specifically tailored to counter any and every sort of teleporter or stranger effect you could utilize. More than likely, you'd be dead in moments."

Six sat completely still; silent.

" _...Right."_ He murmured. "So basically I _am_ stuck here? There's no other way?"

Dragon hummed noncommittally, Six's head perking up in response.

"There _is_ another way?"

"There is a _possibility,_ albeit a slim one," She admitted, "I've discussed the idea with Armsmaster..."

"No." The Tinker countered. "As I've said before, the chances of that working are slim to none. It would be better not to get his hopes up."

"Now, wait a second- _Hold up."_ Six held up his hands haltingly. "I think that should be _my_ decision to make, don't you?"

Colin glowered. First at Dragon's screen, then at Six. He sighed.

" _Fine._ There _is_ a local Tinker, by the name of 'Leet'. His inventions are notoriously unreliable; they tend to blow up in his face more often than they function properly, _but…"_

" _...But?"_ Six was rapt, his focus entirely on Colin; urging him to continue. Under the unblinking, burning stare of the gas mask he wore, Colin had to admit even he was at least a little intimidated.

" _Supposedly,"_ He stressed the word, trying to make his personal opinion clear, _"Supposedly,_ he can build any device he wants. But only once. Even if, hypothetically, you were able to track him down, and convince him to try building you a device to send you home, it's unlikely he would actually be able to make it function. Best case scenario, it doesn't work. Worst case; you'll die."

"Mhm… Long odds, then." Nodding, Six splayed his hands out on the table before him. "I've played worse; won them too. Here's the other thing, though; I don't have years to spend waiting. New Vegas isn't fully established as its own power yet. I was still running around putting out fires before I got sent here, and I want to get back home before word reaches the NCR that I'm not home anymore and people start thinking I'm dead. They were pretty evenly divided on whether to start another war for the Mojave last I heard, and I don't want my not being there to tip the scales in the wrong direction, y'know?"

Colin quirked an eyebrow. Courier Six had alluded to a recent major conflict, but had kept some of the specifics vague.

"The NCR? That's one of the major powers in your home, correct?" Dragon sounded unabashedly curious, pausing for a moment. "Ah- My apologies. I know the general details of your situation, but I have to admit, I really am interested to learn more…"

"Not at all," Six chuckled, "Yeah, the NCR; the New California Republic they call themselves. Formed about… A century ago, I think?" He made a so-so motion with his hand. "Give or take. Anyway, they based their government on Pre-War America, and all the stuff that came with it. You know; democracy, the rule of law,monopolies, _corruption;_ all that good stuff. Their territory spans pretty much the entire west coast, and it's been growing fast in recent years. Problem is, they can't keep it all safe. There's raiders and bandits all over the trade routes, and in the meantime, they just keep expanding. Staking their claim and running off to get more. New Vegas and the Mojave was going to be their latest addition, but then Caesar and his merry band of slaver shitheads showed up and bloodied their noses. Fast forward to a few months ago, and they finally settled it once and for all: NCR kicked Caesar's ass, I kicked the NCR's ass, and then everyone went home with sore asses. In the couple of months between then and when I got here, I'd heard rumours about how some of the factions in the government wanted to double down and 'bring me to justice', but between the public pushback already there from their last loss, the factions who don't want to throw good money after bad, and Vegas' defences, I doubted they'd try anything anytime soon, but that was assuming I'd be there to send them packing personally. Anyway, that's the long and short of it. I trust my second-in-command to turn them back if they tried anything, but he's told me in no uncertain terms that the NCR can and would win a war of attrition eventually. It'd take a hell of a long time and it'd turn what's left of the Long 15 into a fucking meat grinder, but it's not like that stopped them before." Six slouched back into his chair, sending it into a sedate spin and muttering quietly. _"Different places, same fucking problems, eh?"_

"I see," Dragon murmured, "We weren't aware that this was a time sensitive matter."

"And I wasn't aware it was going to take long enough to get home that it would become one. Like I said, the Mojave can take care of itself perfectly well for a while; just not forever. So if there's any chance at all I can get back before something bad happens, no matter how slight, then I'll take it. So what else can you tell me about this _'Leet'_ guy?"

Colin frowned. He didn't like doing this. Passing off something this big to someone else; let alone to a small-time villain like _Leet._ It grated. But the fact of the matter was that Dragon and Himself couldn't help Six. Not while staying within the bounds of the law. Not in the timeframe Six was giving. He had a choice: send Six to Leet, let another person have the fame for making contact with this other earth and whatever that lead to; or keep him here. Keep Six dependent on the PRT to get home, holding his only chance hostage in order to keep an obviously dangerous and violent man in line. He knew what he was supposed to do. He knew what Piggot would likely say, if he were to fob the decision off to her. It wasn't hard to imagine that she'd love to effectively have another cape under her control. He _could_ do that; cross-dimensional politics was neither his job description nor a talent of his; certainly no one would blame him. But a certain discussion he had overheard once, some time ago haunted him. The difference between heroes that did what they _should,_ and the ones that did what they were _supposed_ to do. If Six was telling the truth, then time was of the essence and who knew how many lives hung in the balance. He was a hero; the leader of the ENE Branch of the Protectorate and considered by many to be one of the top members in the entire organization, besides the Triumvirate. If he were the one to establish contact with this other earth, it would be a huge boon to his career. Something that would write him into the history books, alongside the likes of Hero, William Manton, or even Sphere; before he was corrupted by the Simurgh. He had always sought to climb the hierarchy of the Protectorate, to get to a point where he could just be left to tinker in peace, and he had never been particularly afraid of who got snubbed or insulted.

But that was just it, wasn't it? Before, the only real risks to others were minor. Perhaps a minorly embarrassing event, maybe some hurt feelings. Hardly anything lasting or irreversible. In this case, though, the stakes were far more serious. If only he had the capability to circumvent those laws and regulations. Could the Triumvirate do it? Chief Director Costa-Brown? Perhaps. But he didn't have the clout to convince any of them. Right here, right now, his power; his position in the Protectorate; it was all worthless. Once again, circumstances out of his control were conspiring against him, and once again he was powerless to do anything to change it. Consciously, Colin unclenched his hand; if not for his gloves, he'd have probably drawn blood from digging his fingernails into his hand. Neither choice was ideal, but he was a hero. Above all else, he had a duty.

Colin sighed.

"Very well. Given what you know already, and what I know about you, Six, I imagine you would go hunt down Leet yourself, regardless of what I tell you. If nothing else, I have a duty to try to prevent things from escalating any further."

That was the rationalization he gave himself. The one he would give Piggot, if she asked for one.

"Uber and Leet are a duo of minor villains in Brockton Bay; they host a web show that they use as a means to finance their personal endeavors, including as Leet's tinkering. The PRT keeps an eye on them, but in reality they're probably hooligans at worst. It would be more trouble than it's worth to put them away for good, with how many fans they have. Because of that, we typically only act to stop them when they're out committing crimes. That said, we are aware of the location of their 'home base', and tend to keep it under surveillance in case they ever decide to try something bigger."

With just a hint of trepidation, he opened the relevant files on his suit's HUD, and with a quick scan to ensure he wasn't giving away any more sensitive information than he intended to, forwarded them to Six's PRT issued phone.

"I've just sent you the relevant files. You should at least be able to locate them with that information."

Reaching into his coat, Six pulled out his phone, opening the screen to view the data for himself.

"Huh. Convenient." He said simply, closing the phone and sliding it back into his pocket in a single motion. "Is that it then? Am I free to go? Time is a-wasting, after all."

"One moment." Colin replied, holding up a finger. Behind the mask of his helmet, he sent a message to Triumph. Dinah Alcott's cousin had insisted that he go to comfort and interrogate her if need be when she awoke. The higher-ups had agreed, given that she would likely be more open to someone she trusted already.

AM: _Triumph. Report. What is Miss Alcott's status?_

For a moment, there was no reply.

TP: _Dinah seems alright. Shaken obviously, but I cant blame her. Says she was ambushed in her home by armed thugs. Managed to escape and ran into 6. He chased them off, brought her to us._

AM: _That matches Courier Six's account. Is there anything else of note?_

TP: _Yeah. Turns out shes a parahuman. I think thats why she fainted when she arrived. Extreme thinker headache. Seemed open to joining the wards though._

AM: _Good. I'll leave it to you to bring the topic up to her parents._

TP: _Oh joy. I didnt want a christmas card from them next year anyway._

Colin suppressed a small snort, turning back to Six.

"Miss Alcott appears to be awake and in good health. Her account of events matches yours, so since you were acting within the law to protect an innocent, you're free to go. Talk to the Trooper outside the door; he'll escort you out. You can pick up your 'Transportalponder' device along with your other weapons on your way out. We don't have any further need for it."

Rising from his chair, Six stretched his arms over his head before giving Colin a quick two-fingered salute.

"Well thank you kindly for making sure she's alright. If that's all, then I'll be off."

With that, he sauntered out of the room, leaving Colin alone with Dragon, the image on the screen shifting from a coiled dragon to her face, as she often did when they were working together on a project in his lab.

"...Well, that was an interesting conversation." She finally said, after a moment of silence.

"How so?"

"For one thing, from the way you described him, I was expecting Courier Six to be _less…"_

"Attentive? Perceptive?" Colin muttered, "Mature? I know. I was surprised as well. He didn't offer to buy my halberd once."

Dragon snorted.

"Did he really-?"

" _Yes."_

"Oh my god." She giggled. "I- Sorry, I can't help laughing. For you, I imagine that must have been like being asked to sell your firstborn. I applaud your self-control, Colin."

"Thank you," Colin smirked, "But besides that, it may be worth making a note of this change in personality. Whether it was an intentional façade, or indicative of some deeper psychological or personality issue, it would be prudent to make sure the Director and others are aware. If this change caught us off guard, then it may do the same for others." He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Courier Six is not our enemy, but I wouldn't go so far as to call him an ally yet. It's still very much possible that we may have to face him as an enemy in the future."

Dragon nodded solemnly.

"I don't like to admit it, but you may well be right. Courier Six's actions hardly strike me as those of a bastion of moral fortitude. Uber and Leet are small enough that I doubt they'd try to make Six do anything horrific, if they even could, but if a larger gang managed to leverage him to their side by any means, it could be dangerous."

"Indeed." Colin nodded. "At the very least, it's unlikely that the Empire or ABB would try to recruit him."

"Very true. At least we have that."

* * *

 _ **I… LIVE!**_

 **Hey… So it's been what? Four months? Just about?**

 **Christ. Wish I could say that there was a reason, and that work's been really busy lately or that I've been caught up in life stuff or something, but I'd be lying. In reality I'm kind of just a lazy bastard who's been playing too many video games. I suppose you could count that I had something of a crisis of faith in myself and my writing. Y'know, 'Am I actually any good at writing? Is this story actually shit?' Stuff like that. Don't read your old writing folks, you'll spot every mistake you ever made and stab yourself in the metaphorical dick with it.**

 **I also had a serious sit down with myself about where I wanted to take this story, how I was going to get there, stuff like that. Believe me, you don't know how painful it was to have Armsmaster and Dragon not just fix the Transportalponder in this chapter. But that would kind of kill the stakes among other things.**

 **Having to conform to narrative pacing fucking sucks, but the alternative is a shitty story. All the good ideas that my brain wants to think about are for when Fallout Earth finally gets a chance to take center stage, (and believe me, it will happen) but at the rate things have been going recently, those ideas won't see the light of day until half-past the heat death of the universe.**

 **But I digress. Anyways, for the folks who've been following since this story was young; thanks for sticking around through this unofficial hiatus. For the new guys, welcome, and I hope you enjoy.**

 **(Also, feel free to ask questions, or point out things I messed up. I couldn't find any reference to however Dragon sold her Tinkertech to the wider world, so DragonTech is totally made up to fill that gap. I dunno if there's a more common/popular/canon name. It won't really be relevant anyway, except I guess it's** _ **sort of**_ **alluding to a later plot point. Sort of.)**


	21. Chapter 16

_Rap-rap-rap_

Jake Kellogg groaned, rubbing his eyes as he shuffled over to the front door of him and his partner-in-crime's hideout. When he had first awoken to someone knocking on the door, he had turned over in bed and tuned it out. They weren't expecting anyone; it was probably just a junkie trying to find an abandoned building to shoot up in. Outwardly, it wasn't like their base was different from any of the other warehouses dotting the docks.

 _Rap-rap-rap_

Five minutes later, the knocking hadn't stopped, and now Jake was getting annoyed. Whoever this was, they were stupidly persistent. Some meth-head high off his ass was still the most likely culprit; too out of it to realize he had been knocking on the door of a (supposedly) abandoned building for five minutes, rather than whatever drug den he was looking for. It happened from time to time; one of the downsides of living in what was nominally Merchant territory, he supposed.

 _Rap-rap-rap_

"Alright, alright, you can quit with the knocking, will you?" He growled as he unbolted the locks and yanked the door open, fully intending to give the dumbass a piece of his mind; as much as would get through, at least. "Look, dude, wrong building. I dunno what you're looking fo- _orrr…"_

The words died on his tongue, eyes wide as they put a name to the intruder. Standing before Jake, also known to the public as the web-streaming star Uber, was Courier Six. The man who had, according to the internet, killed Hookwolf and left Crusader sobbing like a baby a while back. He was also, apparently, a bounty hunter. Here. On the doorstep of two known criminals with existing bounties. Sure, they were chump change compared to the bigger players in the city, but if Courier Six was anything like people were theorizing he was, then it wasn't the money he was after.

" _ **Uber and Leet."**_ The man rasped. _**"I'm looking for Uber and Leet."**_

Jake took a moment to gulp, transfixed by the cape's fiery gaze. One that promised eternal damnation to anyone unfortunate enough to fall foul of their bearer.

Then he slammed the door shut, locking each and every one of the several locks and deadbolts they had installed on the door for this exact kind of situation. Then he ran.

"Andy! Shit, _Leet!_ Dude! _Wake up!"_ He dashed through their hideout, making sure not to slip on the tiled floor. "Code Night Trap! _Code Night Trap!"_

"Wha-?" Andy let out a yelp, followed by a thump. As Jake skidded to a stop outside Andy's room, her found his partner tangled in a heap next to the futon that served as his bed. "What's going on? Night Trap? You're sure?"

"It's Courier _fucking_ Six, dude! At the front door! You saw what he did to Hookwolf! This is- It's fucking Night Trap _Ultra!_ "

"Courier Six? Shit, _shit!_ What do we do?" Andy scrambled to his feet, kicking his legs free of the sheets still tangled around them.

"You remember when we made these contingency plans, right? Go, get on the security system. I'll see what we can use from the vault."

"Right, right…" Andy nodded absently, already thinking. "Alright, yeah. Go grab what you can. The plasma rifle from when we did Halo should work, right?"

"It might; been a long time since we did that episode. I'll take care of it. Did that perimeter defence system you installed ever work? We're going to need it."

"Dunno. I never tested it, in case it ended up being a one time use thing. I'll see if it works. The cameras are off-the-shelf, though. They'll work, at least."

They broke apart, Andy heading for security system controls as Jake detoured towards the Vault. It was where they kept all of Andy's tinkertech that hadn't broken yet. He just hoped that nothing had degraded to much in the meantime. Pulling the metal door open, he scanned the room anything useful he could grab. Plasma Rifle? Hell, the lights still worked; he grabbed it. DL-44 blaster? No smoking circuits. Perhaps the spirit of Han Solo would smile upon them, if things got to that point. He snagged it, a few other bits and bobs that looked still mostly functional, and the pair of facemasks from their _Army of Two_ episode, slipping one over his head; not exactly Tinkertech, but any protection they could get at this point would be a godsend.

With his potentially unstable loot cradled in his arms, Jake power walked as fast as he was willing to risk towards the security room, pulling the door shut with his foot. _Gently,_ he laid his collection out on a table nearby as his partner in crime tapped away furiously at his keyboard, windows opening on the monitor before him.

"He still there?" Jake tossed the second mask in Andy's lap.

"One sec. I'm pulling up the camera feeds now."

Slowly; _agonizingly slowly,_ the CCTV software booted up. Andy clicked through the feeds, giving them a full view of the streets outside their base.

"Shit, we got bad news and… _not bad_ news? I guess? Not sure I'd call it good news." Andy shrugged. "Anyway, he's still out there, but it's only him. I don't see any PRT, Protectorate, or gangs."

"Just 'cuz we can't see them doesn't mean they aren't there. Let's not take any risks. What's he doing?"

"He's… He's just standing there." The Tinker murmured. "Not even trying to break in or anything. Is he waiting for something?"

They stood silently, watching Courier Six for a full minute. The man didn't make any overt movements, save for looking at the device strapped to his arm the way one might check their watch.

He knocked again, the sound rattling through their hideout.

"Should we... I dunno, talk to him?" Jake finally said. "I don't think he's trying to attack us or anything."

"We could try." Andy shrugged. "I mean, the building's got a PA system from when we bought it. We could use that, right?"

"Mhm. It's only one way, though. We wouldn't be able to hear what he says from here, and the CCTVs don't have audio." Jake sighed, wiping his brow. "One way or another, one of us is going to have to go up to the door, and either talk to him, or hand him a radio. Or something."

Andy was silent. Jake looked down, expecting to see his partner-in-crime deep in thought. Instead, he saw his friend looking up at him fearfully.

" _Dude-"_

"Oh, what do you expect me to do?" Andy whined. "You're the one who could actually do something in a fight! Without my Tinkering I'm just a guy in a costume!"

Jake sighed, grimacing.

"I know. Still, that's your _first_ idea _?_ "

"Bitch about it once the trigger-happy psychopath's gone," Andy grumbled, "Hold on."

Leaning to the side, he yanked a desk drawer open, pulling out a pair of solid, blocky looking walkie-talkies.

"Here. Just shove one of these through the door hole or whatever. I've got the base unit here, so we can all talk."

Jake took the radios, clipping one to his belt.

"This plan is bullshit, dude."

"Yeah, well we weren't ever going to survive an actual code _Night Trap_. You said it yourself, remember?"

"I know. Still; _Bull. Shit."_

"Same, dude; same. Nothing else we can do, though."

Jake groaned, creeping out into the hallway. It couldn't be an ambush, right? If it was, it was the most amatuer attempt he'd ever seen. Six was smarter than that, right? You don't kill _fucking Hookwolf_ by being a dumbass.

Drawing on his power to keep his steps as quiet as he could, he crept toward the front door, the plastic casing of the radio creaking in his near death-grip. He stopped less than a foot from the door; solid steel and pretty visibly reinforced, it would hold up to a decent assault, but if a brute got involved then all bets were off, no matter how thick the doors. Reaching up to rest a hand on the handle of the sliding panel set in the door at eye level, he took a calming breath.

 _In... Out. In… Out._

Finally, as calm as he could be, Jake yanked the handle, pulling the hatch open _just_ enough to fit the radio, and shoved the device through. That done, he slammed the hatch shut, collapsing with his back to the door in case Courier Six decided to try forcing his way in. He heard a muffled grunt of surprise from the other side, followed by a long moment of silence. Finally, the radio clicked to life.

" _Fuckin' finally! Honestly, the service here is terrible."_

His voice was raspy, with just a bit of southern twang.

" _You're… Courier Six?"_ Andy's voice was unsure; somewhere between a statement of fact and a request for clarification.

" _No, I'm his long-lost brother, Courier Seven. Are you guys Uber and Leet?"_

"Depends," Jake cut in, before Andy could say something stupid, "What're you looking for them for?"

After a moment, Courier Six let out a put-upon sigh through the radio.

" _If you aren't Uber and or Leet, then I would say that's none of your business."_

Jake frowned.

" _Yeah, I can play at being annoying and obtuse too, pal. If, hypothetically I_ _ **were**_ _talking to Uber and Leet, though, then I would say that I want to hire you two to build something for me."_

Jake blinked. Down the hall, he imagined that Andy was doing the same thing.

"Why… Why not get in contact with us through the internet, then?" He inquired, shifting in his seat at the base of the door. "We do have an Email for people wanting to hire us. Could've saved us all a lot of trouble if you used it."

Courier Six was silent.

" _...I don't have internet."_ He finally admitted, sounding bashful. _"And also I didn't know you guys existed until, like, last night."_

" _Hey- How do we know you're telling the truth about any of this and not just lying to get us to drop our guard, anyway?"_ Andy's voice crackled over the radio.

" _If I wanted to do that, I'd have just busted down the door."_ Six replied, matter-of-factly, _"I was hoping to keep things peaceful today."_

" _That door's reinforced steel,"_ Andy spat back, _"What makes you so sure that you could get in anyway?"_

There was another bout of silence, but Jake could swear he heard the sound of metal clinking on metal just outside.

" _So you've got a couple grenades,"_ Andy audibly sneered, _"This is our fortified base, it'll take more than that to get inside."_

More silence. Then the clinking noises got louder, more insistent.

" _That's… Okay, so maybe you could get past the door. If that's all you've got though…"_ Andy trailed off.

Jake stood up, jogging back down the hall to find Andy staring up at the camera feed, mouth agape. Looking closer, Jake had to stop his himself from boggling at the sight before him. A small pile of what he could only assume were all sorts of explosives, both tinkertech and conventional based on the little glow-y bits some of them had, had been piled upon their front doorstep. Courier Six calmly continued adding to the pile, already big enough to be at risk of spilling over.

"Dammit, Andy!" Jake slapped his partner upside the head, getting a pathetic whine out of his friend. "Don't provoke the heavily armed cape, you fuckin' dumbass!"

Satisfied that Andy had learned his lesson for the time being, Jake brought the radio up to his mouth, depressing the button.

" _Alright, alright,_ you can stop! Message received! We get it!"

" _Dude!"_ Andy hissed.

" _Dude_ what?" Jake shot back, hand over the radio's mouthpiece. "Do you not see the big pile of enough explosives to level half the docks? Let's face it, if this guy wanted us dead, we'd be dead. Let's just see what he wants, and then we'll decide what to do about it."

Andy grumbled, but didn't disagree. Shooting his partner one last look, Jake brought the radio back up.

"Alright, you've convinced me _and_ my partner," Jake stole a glance at Andy; he was scowling, but otherwise didn't object. "You've convinced us that you're acting in good faith, at least. Give us a moment, and we can discuss exactly what you're asking for."

Clipping the radio back to his belt, Jake clapped his partner on the shoulder.

"C'mon dude. Showtime."

Andy grumbled, but reluctantly rose to follow, flipping down his own ballistic face mask.

"I don't like this. This guy just shows up out of nowhere and says he wants to hire us? Something's fishy."

"I know, but…" Jake sighed. "What else are we supposed to do? I don't think a polite 'no' is going to make him leave, and we've already established that being on his bad side is a really shitty idea."

"Hrm." Andy grunted an agreement. Neither of them were happy with it, but they approached the door anyway. As they approached, Andy visibly gripped his plasma rifle, holding it something approximating a ready stance. Jake probably could have used it more effectively, but Andy had been right, earlier. He couldn't hold his own in a fight as well as Jake could without time to Tinker and prepare. If it came to that, though, they'd… They'd do something. Anything.

Slowly and deliberately unlocking each of the locks and deadbolts attached to the front door, Jake inched the metal slab open, peeking out through the cracks. Courier Six was standing there, dashing any hope, however small, of all this being some horrible waking nightmare. His eyes though… Jake realized they weren't lit up anymore. Damn, that _must_ have been an intentional choice. Either backlights set into the lenses or some built-in NVGs. Maybe the guy had some sort of Glory Girl-esque fear aura?

Well, he couldn't say that it hadn't been effective. Opening the door the rest of the way, he tried to look as casual as he could.

"Welcome to Casa de Uber and Leet." He intoned, drawing upon his power once more to give his presence that extra edge that had come in handy more than once. "My name is Uber, and this is my lovely assistant Leet! Pleased to make your acquaintance!"

Six snorted, and Jake smiled hopefully, tuning out Andy's grumblings of 'not being an assistant'. People looking for a fight didn't generally laugh at cheesy jokes like that; that meant good things, right?

Gesturing for Six to enter, Jake turned guide their merry band into the kitchen. They had a table in there that would work for discussing terms.

"Hold on."

Or not.

"Dammit Leet..." Jake grumbled, consciously forcing himself to switch over to 'show mode'; cape names only until they were sure they were alone and safe. He turned around, and saw Andy with his plasma rifle pointed not quite at, but in the general direction of Courier Six.

"Hey, I'm in the right this time. We've both seen what he does; he can leave his guns here at the front door."

Jake sighed. They had figured that Six's power was some sort of reaction-and-or-aim enhancing combat-thinker power, or at least that was the most pertinent facet of his power in a fight. Telling him to disarm; on one hand, Andy was right and it was probably the prudent choice, but Six had already proven he was more than capable of taking them in a head on fight, and he wasn't eager to see exactly how far the cape's affability would stretch.

"Nah, nah, it's cool."

Jake blinked. Looking at Andy, he got the sense that his partner had expected the man to put up more of a fight too.

"I came to you guys, fair's fair. I'll disarm, if you don't mind waiting for a couple minutes."

Sliding the weapons off his back first, some sort of lever-action rifle with a dreamcatcher looking _thing_ tied to the stock and a shotgun painted in a grassy yellow-green camouflage, Six set them in a corner. Then he began to pull weapons from under his coat. First came a tinkertech rifle of some sort, wooden furniture clashing with the glowing bits and metal flange bits clashing in an anachronism that was uniquely Tinkertech. Then came a couple more conventional rifles, both obviously heavily weathered. One looked to be a Garand, if Jake's Call of Duty knowledge didn't yet fail him, and the other was… Some sort of M-16, maybe? Looked sort of like one, but also not really. Those were followed by some sort of massive, metal tube of a weapon and at least a half dozen different pistols and revolvers. The show went on for nearly five whole minutes as Six pulled out a literal armory's worth of deadly implements; Jake nearly had to pick his jaw up off the ground in shock at the sheer variety of weapons on display.

"And that's… About… It." Six finally said, patting himself down as he did. "Still got the grenades and stuff, but I think we can agree that that's just a bad idea in close quarters and I don't feel like pulling each and every one out again. Also, if any of them go missing, _I'll castrate you with a rusty switchblade."_

Jake looked at Andy, shrugging in a 'happy now?' way. Andy looked at him. Then back at the weapons. Then back at him. Slowly, silently, he nodded.

"Alright then…" He murmured, feeling ever so slightly faint. Shuffling over to the table, he took a seat at one end, Andy sitting next to him. Six took a seat at the other end, resting his elbows on the table.

" _...So,"_ He began, "You want to hire us. Why?"

"Well, it's simple. I need _this-"_ He whipped out some sort of pistol shaped Tinkertech device, "repaired. Armsmaster said you could help-"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa!"_ Andy held up his hands in a 'time-out' motion. "Bullshit. Armsmaster would never in a million years admit he couldn't do something that I could. He would definitely never tell someone affiliated with the PRT to work with villains, not even one as, _ah…_ Morally ambiguous as you,."

"He didn't want to. I think it was Dragon's idea, actually."

Jake had to stop himself from choking on his own incredulous gasp at that. Andy recoiled almost visibly.

"No. _Bull. Fucking. Shit._ You're saying that Dragon, _The_ Dragon, the world's greatest Tinker since basically _ever,_ said that she and Armsmaster together can't build something? That doesn't mean it can't be built, that means it shouldn't be built. Period. End of."

Six sighed.

"Let me... Rephrase that," he murmured, "What I meant to say was that they couldn't build it in time for what I need it for."

Andy paused at that. Jake too. That was different, then. If only slightly.

"Explain." He intoned.

"Right, so according to Armsmaster, I'm from _'another earth'_." Six airquoted derisively. "Not sure how much of that I actually believe, but he seemed to have a pretty clear idea of what was going on, and I don't, so I don't have anything better to go with."

Jake looked at Andy, wide-eyed, as his partner looked back at him, probably with the same expression. This changed everything.

"So, I asked him to fix this thing," Six gestured to the device he had laid on the table, "So I can get back home to doing my own thing. Problem is, he says it'll take years to build, 'cuz of bureaucracy and shit. I can't afford to wait years, though, you get me?"

Jake nodded slowly, pieces of information starting to come together. It wasn't that Dragon and Armsmaster couldn't build it, they just couldn't get around red tape like _they_ , being nominal villains, could.

"Alright, I think I get what you're saying. We might be able to help. Leet, what do you think?"

Andy was deep in thought, muttering Tinkerbabble to himself.

" _...Might be able to work, haven't built anything too close to that. Need some supplies though…"_

"...I'm going to go with a tentative _yes_ on that." Jake decided, turning back to Six. "Alright, we can help you; what're you willing to pay in return?"

Almost as if he had been waiting for the cue, Six plunked a solid yellow brick onto the table, the shape so heavy and moving so fast that it rattled Jake in his seat, the sound snapping Andy out of his growing fugue.

"That's no- _guh?"_

Jake looked closer at the yellow brick. Then he looked even closer. He was tempted to slap himself to make sure this wasn't some absurd fever dream.

"Leet, my friend?" He murmured, deadpan.

"Yes, Uber?" Andy was equally deadpan, staring down the tantalizing piece of bling before him.

"Am I looking at what I think I'm looking at?"

"I don't know. Do you think you're looking at a literal gold brick?"

"I think I am, buddy. I think I am."

"I think you are too, dude."

Jake looked up at Six, reaching out one hand hesitantly.

"Can I…?"

Six nodded, pushing the brick over.

"Twenty-four karat. About as pure as you can get. I think it's like, thirty-something pounds? Payable upon delivery of a safe path to Big Empty."

Jake stared, flabbergasted. Gently, he wrapped his hands around the brick, pulling it closer. With a grunt, he lifted it up, weighing it in his hand. Thirty-something felt about right. He pulled on his power, searching for some sort of appraisal skill. Whatever he got, it was telling him that this was, indeed, likely to be pure gold. Just as Six had said.

"Jesus," Andy breathed, "That's gotta be, like… a million dollars worth, right?"

"Something like that, yeah." Jake solemnly agreed. Quietly, he set the brick back down, sliding it back across the table to Six. "Alright, yeah, we can definitely work with that sort of budget. Leet? Anything- uh, anything you want to add?"

"Actually, yeah, I've been curious about something," Andy began. Jake had to resist slapping him as turned on the spot to his partner.

" _Dude. Do not fuck this up now!"_ He hissed.

" _I won't, promise."_ Andy shot back, turning to Six. "I've seen you using directed energy weapons at least once, but I haven't seen you with any sort of big, like, power pack or anything. How are you powering them? Can I see?"

"Microfusion cells." Six answered matter-of-factly. "Got a bunch of 'em."

As if to prove his point, Six reached under his coat, pulling out a handful of D-battery sized devices and scattering them across the table, about four or five in total. Andy snatched one up like a drowning man clinging to floating debris, or a junkie trying to get his next fix. He held it up to his eye, inspecting it.

"1048 volts… No fucking way…" Her murmured, turning to Jake, seizing his shoulders. "Dude, do you know what these mean? Do you _fucking_ know what these mean?"

"N-no?" Jake answered uncertainly.

"It means no more powering everything with _nine-fucking-volt batteries_ , that's what it fucking means!" Andy was practically shaking Jake back and forth as he spoke, giggling hysterically before turning back to Six. _"How much? I'll pay right here and now. All cash."_

Six looked back and forth between them, chuckling at Leet's antics.

"Tell you what. You get me home, and I'll hook you up with a guy who'll sell you as many as you can buy. And for a good price too; consider those the first part of your payment."

The words had barely left the cape's mouth before Andy snatched the whole pile up, dashing back into their inner sanctum, giggling with all the giddiness of a kid on Christmas as he went.

"Well. I guess that's a yes, then," Jake muttered, watching his partner go. "...I guess that's it then? I'm sure Leet's already hard at work; you don't know how long he's been wishing for something to replace all those batteries. Probably gonna drop every other project to get it done as fast as possible, too."

Six snorted, leaning back in his seat.

"Hey, the faster you can do it, the better. If you guys run into any problems, come find me. I'll do whatever I can to get back home; the faster, the better."

Jake nodded.

"I'll be sure to remember that. Allow me to show you out, then?"

Standing, they both shook hands, finalizing their agreement as best an agreement like theirs could be finalized. Grabbing his weapons, Six quickly stowed them back under his coat just as they had been when he entered. Jake wondered if he had some sort of hammerspace power, like that one cape, Circus?

He dismissed the thought, watching as Six opened the front door, slipping through with a wave. And with that, he was gone, leaving Jake alone with only the sounds of maniacal, giddy laughter echoing out of Andy's workshop.

* * *

 **Whoof. Next chapter done. At least this time it was within a vaguely reasonable timeframe? Either way, unless I realize suddenly that I'm missing some key detail that'll be important in the next couple chapters, this marks the start of things starting to kick into gear for realsies this time. Been excited to write these next couple chapters; hell, some parts of it have been in my head since I started writing the damn story. My greatest fear at this point is that I won't be able to do it proper justice to how I envision it, and that's gonna just kill my work ethic.**

 **Whelp. :/**

 **Only one way to find out; maybe it'll be the opposite, and the excitement of cranking out 'the good bit' will overwrite any disillusionment I have with the actual technical quality, and it'll be what I needed to really start working on this consistently, rather than blacking out for a couple hours and waking up with a chapter basically written in a night.**


	22. Chapter 17

Taylor felt... _oddly lighthearted_ as she strolled down the road, following the same path she had taken just about every day for the past week to Six's house.

Sure, school that day had been as crappy as usual, thanks to _The Trio_ ; she just couldn't bring herself to care anymore. Even aside from the fact that nothing they could realistically do could top the locker, she _, Taylor Hebert_ , was a hero; now, all the crap the trio could throw at her over the course of the day was no longer the only thing she had to look forward to every morning.

Before that night a week ago, it had been teenage schoolgirls doing petty, shitty things to another teenage schoolgirl. Regardless of whatever reason they were doing it for, if there even was any deeper reason to it beyond them being sadistic bitches, neither she, nor the trio, nor anything they did really _mattered_ when you got down to it; even within the city, or hell, _within Winslow._

But now, suddenly, she was a cape, and the balance of everything changed. She had _priorities_ now. She wasn't _just_ a cape, either, but a _hero_ ; Armsmaster had actually _complimented_ her, however backhanded it had been.

And what she was doing, what she _had_ done, was making a difference, however small. Now that Lung was in PRT custody, the ABB had lost its biggest trump card. PHO was already speculating back and forth how that would affect the Bay. Sure, maybe it wasn't much; Lung could still escape before the PRT could transport him to prison. It certainly wouldn't be the first time the Protectorate had captured a villain, only for them to break out a few weeks, if not _days_ later, and Oni Lee and the rest of the ABB were still out there.

Still, the realities of life in Brockton Bay were only a mild damper on Taylor's mood. The fact of the matter was that she was a hero now, and with a major victory to her name already. Six's mentorship, she imagined, would be a godsend the more famous they got.

As it was, he had done little more than show just how much she _didn't_ know, but everyone had to start somewhere: First Aid, beyond the basics that were near mandatory for anyone living in the Bay, was something he had explicitly stressed as _vital_ for continued success. Fighting too; Six's little demonstration had made it all too clear what level she stood on in that regard.

She turned a corner, onto the street Six's house resided on as she felt the building coming into her range. Coalescing the insects she could find both inside and in the area, she sent them through the house, searching for where Six might be, if he was home at all; it made for good practice with using her 'swarm senses'. Strangely, though, her swarm found the front door ajar, rather than closed. Shifting her focus inside, Taylor felt her blood run cold. At least five figures, standing in a rough circle in the kitchen, and none of them looked like Six.

Her bugs' senses weren't great in general, but through practice and experience, Taylor had learned to differentiate people, to a degree, through their more obvious traits. General height and build weren't overly difficult to figure out. Clothing was… possible, but not always easy. Different materials had certain distinct qualities that were easy enough to look for with bug senses; Taylor had taken and chance she could get to teach herself how to tell them apart. Leather had a different feel to metal, plastic, or cotton. Certain people were easier to distinguish, too, thanks to her practice: Six, her dad, _the Trio_ ; Taylor wouldn't say she could pick them out in a crowd with bugs alone, but she knew them well enough that if she were, say, searching for one of them in a small group like she was now, it wouldn't be too difficult. Her bugs didn't give a good enough view to pick out facial features, but they could sense lots of metal; at least two of the intruders were wearing suits of armor. And the only capes Taylor knew of that wore that much plate?

 _The Empire._

They weren't just any Empire capes, either. _Kaiser himself_ was almost certainly standing in Six's kitchen by the looks of it; he was the only one in the gang to wear a literal crown, as far as Taylor knew. She wasn't familiar enough with the gang to identify all of the others, but she knew Kaiser well enough. _Anyone_ who had lived in the Bay for more than a few months knew the leader of the single most powerful parahuman gang in the city by name and appearance. The fact that he was in Six's house, let alone with backup, couldn't possibly mean anything good.

Taylor had to resist the instinct to stop where she was and run away. Six didn't seem to be in the building; it was empty, save for the group standing in the kitchen, which thankfully meant that he was probably out in the city and not being held hostage. If they didn't have him already, then the Empire was most likely waiting to ambush him, and it would only make sense to have a lookout of some sort. It was what she would do; leave insects along the road either way to act as an early warning if her target was approaching. Problem was, she had no idea who it could be, or where they might be. There were cars parked along the street, at least a couple with windows tinted too dark to see through; cars were a lot more difficult to get bugs into than buildings. That in mind, Taylor forced herself to continue down the street, towards Six's house, and then past it, down to the other end of the street. If anyone had seen her making a U-turn in the middle of the street for no apparent reason while a half-dozen members of the Empire 88 sat in ambush just a little ways ahead… Needless to say, it would have outed her pretty quickly. As it was, she just looked like some random student walking home from school, backpack slung over her shoulder. _Nothing to see here, no sir..._

Turning the corner, Taylor let out a sigh of relief, the part of her swarm still outside not detecting anyone else on the street as she scurried away from the house. She needed to get in contact with Six; She could never hope to take on so many capes at once, not on her own.

Six, though? He might just be able to do it. She'd help however she could, of course, but Six would be better suited as the one facing the gang down directly; when the time came, she'd make sure that he had all the help he could get.

Ducking off the sidewalk, Taylor called back her swarm to scan the area for any witnesses. Ducking through a fence gate to someone's side yard, she let out a slow breath. The city was back in the direction she'd come from, so Six would be coming from the same direction; probably in the next twenty minutes or so, assuming he followed the same pattern he had for the past few days. There were a lot of things she needed to do before Six arrived, to make sure he wasn't going in blind, but first?

Crouching down, she unslung her backpack; the black one the Undersiders had delivered their reward in, rather than her regular school backpack. Inside, her costume sat; neatly folded and ready to be put on. Heading home to drop off her regular bag and grab an entirely separate one before heading back out was a pain, but she had realized pretty quickly that the fences in this neighborhood weren't tall enough to stop someone from peeking over if they were all that determined, and she didn't dare bring her costume to school; _that_ would just be asking for every kind of hell she could imagine. If any of the Trio found out, who knew what they might do? Sell her identity to the gangs, maybe?

That might be excessive, even for them, but given what they had done with the locker, it seemed nothing was _absolutely_ off the table. She couldn't afford the risk, even if it _was_ inconvenient; anything and everything cape related was to be kept far, _far_ away from Winslow.

The geometry of the house she was taking shelter behind, the fence, and a chimney jutting out from the walls created an alcove of sorts; large enough for her to change in, and covered on three sides. The neighboring house had a window that would let anyone watching through see her changing, but the blinds had been pulled closed. She covered it with bugs just in case; it was probably the best opportunity she was going to get if she didn't want to go into her first real cape encounter out of costume. Setting the backpack in one corner, Taylor took one more look around for anyone who might spot her. Finally satisfied the coast was as clear as it would get, she bent down, opening the bag and pulling out the bodysuit component of her costume. She'd managed to fabricate a few more armor panels in the past few days, but it was still far from finished.

Between her first night and Six's tutelage, Taylor had realized that more than a few of the things she'd done to prepare in the months before going out in costume had been something of a waste. The spider-silk suit was definitely worth the time, she wouldn't doubt that; but whatever the chances were that _chalk dust_ might have come in handy in some obscure situation didn't outweigh the fact that if she was ever going to actually use it, she'd basically have to have it prepared before even going into the encounter, to say nothing of the unlikelihood that she'd actually encounter a cape that could turn invisible, but not also turn the dust caught stuck to their body invisible, or negate the effect some other way with their power. There weren't even any Strangers in Brockton Bay, as far as she knew, at least.

Thankfully, though, the time spent practicing quickly changing into her costume wasn't one of those wastes. After a couple of weeks of practice, she'd gotten it down to a science: Unzip bodysuit, pants off, pull on costume, arms through the sleeves, pull up the top and zip it. All in all? Less than twenty seconds' exposure. Stretching quickly to make sure that nothing had gotten bunched up or caught anywhere, she bent over, digging through the bag for the rest of her ensemble. Mask? On and over her face, hair pulled back so that it wasn't caught under the straps. Coat? Over the suit. _Finally ready._

Packing her other outfit back into the backpack, Taylor recalled the swarm from the window and commanded them to hide on her costume. The sleeves of the coat had a fair amount of room on their own to keep insects in, and the inside lining had a couple good sized pockets sewn in too; plenty of room for carrying bugs when it was necessary. She was still working on training the knee-jerk panic response out of her head whenever she had a big swarm on or around her, but Six had agreed that there were serious benefits to effectively having a controllable, reusable smokescreen.

She snuck across the backyard and through a gate in the rear, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be watching out the window. Her next priority was getting in contact with Six; if nothing else, she needed to make sure he wasn't walking in blind... If she positioned herself in a spot between the house and Six's path, she would hopefully be able to head him off before he got spotted. She jogged along the fence line; all the properties along the street were backed right up to a scrub-y, undeveloped area sparsely dotted with trees that went out to the nearest roads. Hugging the fence would let her pass by the house without being spotted, moving further away from the house until it reached the limit of her range. Hopefully it would be far enough that she could catch Six.

As she felt the house reaching the edge of her range, she slowed, putting more focus into interpreting her bugs' senses. There wasn't much she'd be able to glean from from eavesdropping; trying to listen to something through her bugs was like trying to listen to music on a poorly tuned radio. It was possible, but difficult, and what she could hear was poor quality. Still, anything might help. She crouched down, marshalling all her focus towards processing what she could hear.

_̧͇͙̳̯̤̲͐͐͌͗_̢̯̤̟̯͔̞̗̿͐̏́̿͞ͅ_̜̪̣̞̦ͭ̿̆́_̲̔ͣ͋̄͛̀_̛͕̺̬̿ͨ̈́̓̋ͬ͡_̴̡̠̱͈͔̼̤̖ͨ̚͞_̸̛̤̗̏̒͋̀ͤ̔ͣ̀_̶̛͓̬͉̣ͭͮ̕_̷̢̥̹̯͓͓̣̮̿͋̒̋̐̿́ͥ̀_ͯ̉ͪͥ͑̊͜҉͈̠̳̩͎͕͕̲̖́_̫̟̲̊̄͗ͫ͌̎_̷̤̻̫̩̩͎͂͗̚̚͟͝

̵̤̲̦͕̰̗̮ͬ̒̎̔"͕͕̤̜̉͑͑ͫ̽͋̐ͅͅG̴̺͓̤̀̆̊ͧͧ̂̓ͯ͢o̲͎̺͈̜̝ͧ͆ͯ͑ͪ̿ͮ̓n̷̙̝̖͙̋́͌̽́ñ̾͛̐ͨ̚͏͈̹̱a̵̢̙̫ͭ̓́̆̂ ̱̹̙̰̩̓ͮ̿͌ͯ̋̐ͬ́k͓̟̣̰̠̦̦̙̐͊̈́̀͑͊̔͠i̢̺͎̤̰͖̩͌ͅl̶̥͙͉̤̠̙̻̙ͦ̂̊̊͗̚l̢͍̯͙̝̜͔̇̒̉̔̃̊̀ͥ͟͡ ͖̥̪̱̬͍̩̘̇́ͣ̆͑̔ͦ͠ḧ̖̭̰̺͚̱̲́̓ͬͣ͆ͬ̅i̜͇̝ͧͮ͠͡m̡̥̫̲̱͖̭͈ͦ̒ͣ̓͌̔̇.̷̨͉̝ͨ̊ͫ́"̡̞̝͗͌̂̀͛̽

̵̪͚̳͔̤̆̌͛ͥ͊ͥ̋ͨ͡͞_͋ͤ̂̊͒͏̢̢̯̱͔̳͉̤_̷̟̼̙̘͍̘̠͛̃͐͐̀̐ͥͮ̕̕_̙͎ͯͩ̎̎̂ͫ̒_̫̟̤̥̇ͩͮ̓ͪ_̍͋ͬ̈́ͭ͏͇͇̰_̷̜̯̟̣̥̠̓ͥͣ̌͆̎_̵̞͇̣ͦ͋̌ͬ̀͛́_̛̝̼̟̯͆͂̿̍_̷̦͉̋́ͬ̆_̛͉͖̞̽_̎̆̎͏͏̜̘_̟̖͚̼̺͕̎̑ͪ̀̂ͩͤͪ̚͝

The speaker was, as far as she could tell, bare-chested; Taylor still could only vaguely make out what he was saying. She cursed her lack of preparation; how many capes in the city could she actually identify on sight? Kaiser… Lung… Oni Lee… Maybe Hookwolf, if he wasn't dead already.

_̞͇̽͂̆͒ͦ̏̒̂̚_̧̮͍̖͚̩͔̣͈̽͂͜͞_̵̪͎͔̬̈́̏ͫ͛͆̉͛̓̕̕ͅ_ͯ̌͆͆̍ͬ͛̎҉̢̭̟̥̪_̜̺͖̲̘ͦ̓͒̅͒ͅ_̮̥̉͑_̡̬͎͍̮̱̱̅ͧ́_̵̠͈̩͆͑ͤ_̸̤̻͚̭͚̱̒̈͑ͅ_̶̰̺̦͈͈̻̝ͭͤ́́̋ͮ̉̚_̸̳̥̭̩̥͔̟ͤ̑_̸̢̱̩̦̰̼͖̪̰̒̉̈̐ͥ_̝̮̯̺̹̥̬͍ͫ̃̽̓́̓̌̚͟_̷̢̬̣̯͖̤̟̗̿́ͧ͢_̷̛͔̺̫͆̔ͧ̓̈_̵̴̧̖̦̰̼̲̜̤͒́ͯ̓̋ͣ̐_̏̅ͯͯͮ́ͪ͜҉͇̺̼̩͖̥̪_̷̦̻̪͙̲̗̟̖ͦͣ̇̚̚͡_̲͙̙̼̫̻̄͂͌͌͗͆ͦ̈́͟͢_̜̺ͪ̑̒_̹̥ͭ_́̑́̊̊͂҉̢̱͍͕͔͎͇̼͘_͚̞̼̩̠͗͛̽̐͘ͅ_̬̥̱̬̻̬̼̘̎͛́_̨͆͒ͫͭͮ̂̈͌͏͙_̡̧̬͉͚͓͉̥͈̞ͩͭͭ͆ͮ̚_̛̔̉ͥ͏̣̹̹̻̭̫̥͖_̪͈̭̼͔̼̮̀̀ͣ͗̍ͭͬ̀̍̕͠ͅ_̨̬̽͢_̡͓͎͎̫̿̐ͦ̄ͭͧ̚͢_̾͟͏̲͞_̗̘͔̪͓͎͖̱̑͠

̈́ͫ̒ͥ̍̆̾̾҉̬͚̣͈̘̲̫"̩̠̟̫̯̄͟͞P̡̨̝̩͉̲̯̗̠̈̄a̷̛̯̦͕̱̦͕̹̻̱̓̃̃̋̄͒̆̒ţ͔̫̥ͩ̾ͬͤ́̚ĩ̸̫̻̩̗͉̳̘̠̆e̐͂ͤ̀͂ͯ̏̑̆҉͉̣̺̺̹͞ͅn͓̮̻̣͚͑̂̐̈ͪ̾͑͜c͔̤̟̾͗ͨ̏̇̑̌͢͡e̺̟̫̱̭̪ͤ̋̅̆ͫ͢͞ͅ.̛̝͔̒̆͋̓̄́ͤ̕ ̢̪̥̙̞̄͊͛͐ͥỶ͙͎̙͈̯̼̝́̐ͣ̓ͦͣ̀́o̢̟̱͍͎͇̮͓̰ͭ͗͒̍ͫu̸̱͓͕̥̳͆͒̋̔̎̓ͪ̐̀ ̬̫̦͖̻͉̙̣̊ͫ̂͂̑̄͆̇͠w̴̡̢̳̙͗̐̄̆̋ͫ̾ͮi̵̞̖̯͕̹̬̙͆͛̾͌ͣ̋ͤ͢l̶̢̥̫̙ͣ̊̿̃̊́̚l̟̩̍͌͛ͩ̎̂̾͊̽ ̷́ͪ͛̀͏̥̤̰̣͈̺̬h̶̤͌ͮa̴̸͚͖̖̤͍̟̞͗ͪ͋vͩ̿͢҉̭͉̠̦̹̥̦͓ȅ̜̻͗ͭ̌̏̄̑ͩ ̶̡̘̳͔̩̝̼̞ͬͯͅy̫̖͉̮̪͈̖̱ͦ͢͡o̰̱̪̮̺͆ͬ̒́͘͝͠u̖̳̭͊r̩̗͍̠̩̜̗̪̍ͭ̈͛͒̔ ̍́̂͏̴̪͇͖r̠͖̭̦̺̟̰̍͆́͘e̐̑̅͏̫̼͈̞̣͕̠̘v̖͚͙̽̀ͦe̖̳̭͈̲͓͛̾͜n̶̞̱̰ͨ̔͛ḡ͎͉͍̬̋͟͠͠ͅe̴̘͎̫̩̩͗̉ͫ̌̓̾͞͝.̶̗̜̘̠ͨ̆̀͘"̨͈͚̜̳̟̰̐͆̀̊̔ͩͯ̈͢͡

͈̠͕̺̰̤͑͛̿͌̎̓͂ͥ̈_̹͕͑ͩ͗̄͌͆ͤͣ̔͞_̢̛̥̮̽̈͂_̨͍̞͖̳̙͕̳̜̓̈́̈̂̇ͫ͡_̟̬̼̄̉͗ͣ_̸̵̱̘̯ͭ̎ͮ̂̄ͮ̒̉͐͢ͅ_̫̪̱̱̰̙̾ͦ̌͂̒̈̌͌_̧̥̰̻̩̜̱̾͗ͩͧ̚_̹͇̟͇̲͓̂̽̽ͮ̊ͅͅ_͈͔̘̖͍͈̫͇͂͂ͥ̽̊ͨ̕͘͟_̢͖̞̀͊̊̐̈͑̽_̶̺̲̥̥̦̩̭̊͐̏͗̊̿̄_̜̺̠̥͎̹̻ͮ͂͌ͥ̉_̥̳͎̫̳̮͔̿͋̎_̉͒̽̎̇̐̈͏͕̦̝̻̝͕_̹͍͙̄̿ͩ̊ͨͣ̀_̪̻̟̺̤̻̟ͨͩ͒͊ͅ_͛͢͏̴̭̱̯̟͔_̢̭̺̫̱͕̦͉͕̪ͦ͗ͥ̽͑́_̸̢̻̣͚͈̠̻̙̟̊̄_̡̨̺̫̰͙̝̮̆ͣ̓͆͗̀ͣ̃_̷͕̰̯͍̱̅ͧͣͨ̈_̢̒͂̉̃͡҉̹_̦̼͇̮̻̥̟ͪͫ͒ͣͩ̉̀͘͡͠_͈̝͍̫̰͕̱͙̜̎̑̈͋ͤ̆͒͗̆̕͡͡_͓̤̳͓̭̙̝ͧͪͬ͑ͅ_̈̄͏͓͈͠_̨̞̬̰̖͚͎̲̥̞͐͐̒̑͂͟_͍̟͓͓̱̞͛̉ͩ͘_̛̛͍̗̲͍̘̩̟ͤ_̼̝͍̯̗̫ͧ͊̿̓̀̍̚͢ͅ_͕̭̝͚̰ͧ̇͢͝͞_͉̖̙̜̥̠̲̥͇̽͟

Another figure spoke; the one that was probably Kaiser. She counted a few others: another guy in armor beside Kaiser; a shorter woman next to the first man; and one more guy, seemingly dressed in plain clothes. She growled, shaking her head; processing the input of dozens of insects at once was bringing on the beginnings of a headache, and she wasn't getting any useful information out of it anyway. Five people total… Worst case scenario, they were all capes. Could Six take them all at once? He was pretty strong, but even _Alexandria_ had her limits…

She paused as her swarm found a figure skimming across the outer edge of her range. More insects converged on the figure, feeling out their features and clothes. Leather coat, Metal helmet and gas mask, rifle strapped to his back; check, check, and check. Courier Six was here.

Taylor called the bugs off of Six, gathering them in a pile at his feet before arranging the individual bodies into a message.

 _ **'STOP'**_ She wrote. **_'EMPIRE AMBUSH IN HOUSE'_**

Six slowed to a walk, then stopped altogether, staring down at the message. Rearranging the swarm into an arrow, Taylor pointed it towards the houses and had it skitter off in that direction. Thankfully, Six followed it, cutting through another house's backyard and into the back area where she was hidden. Taylor waved him over, waiting for him to get close.

"Kid?" He whispered, slowing to kneel next to her. "What's going on? Someone trying to get us?"

"The Empire, I think," She nodded, "I spotted Kaiser inside your house, along with a few others; they might be capes, but I don't know."

Six growled, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Oh that's fan- _fuckin'_ -tastic. I thought there were supposed to be rules against this shit, aren't there?"

He looked at Taylor, as if expecting an answer. She could only shrug in response. Six let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head.

"That's what I get for assuming people might _not_ break their own rules the moment it's convenient, _for fucking once_... Let me impart some life advice, Kid," He held up one hand, index finger extended. "There's only one rule you _have_ to follow in life, and that's _'Don't fucking die'_. All the others don't mean shit if you're dead."

Taylor blinked. She... supposed that made sense, in a brutally simplistic sort of way. That's just what the Trio did, wasn't it? It wasn't as though the rules didn't apply to them; they just didn't follow them. And nobody ever bothered punishing them for it, either...

"Anyway," Six grumbled, "How many people did you say you saw?"

"...Five." She mumbled, before shaking her head; she needed to put her personal thoughts to the side for the moment. "I mean- Yeah, five people, total."

Six nodded.

"Alright, let's assume worst case scenario here, if they've all got superpower bullshit, then I won't be able to take them head on. Not if I want them alive at the end."

"You won't?"

"What, you think I can take five-on-one at a disadvantage? I ain't a miracle worker. Tempted as I am to just shoot them all in the head and be done with it, I don't want to get yelled at by the PRT folks. They get all pissy about that."

"So… We just wait until they leave, then?"

" _Fuck no!_ We do that, and they'll just be back tomorrow. And the day after. And so on." Reaching into his coat, Six withdrew a spool of metal wire, followed by a handful of… grenades? "We've just got to be a little clever about how we approach this."

Taylor watched as Six worked, running the wire through the metal rings of each grenade before using it to tie them all together in a bundle. Another length tied around the first formed a loop that protruded from the bundle. A second bundle quickly followed, six or so grenades tied together in a loop.

"Got the idea for this from the traps certain folk like to leave sitting around," He chuckled. "Tie all the pins together, and you can scatter a half-dozen grenades in one throw. Drop a couple of these at someone's feet...?" He trailed off meaningfully.

"Sounds… _dangerous."_

"Mmh, maybe… But I'd say I'm justified this time; any of these guys die, it's their own damn fault. Besides, it's not all frags; got a few flashbangs, a few incendiaries… At least this way I can say I _tried_ to not kill them. Not like many people're gonna cry either way."

Taylor raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Distasteful as it was to consider, she supposed Six wasn't necessarily wrong. The Empire was generally disliked by anyone who wasn't a part of it; the same went for their capes.

 _How many people wept after Hookwolf died? How many_ _would_ _cry if Kaiser died?_

"And they're just going to let you walk in and do that?" She asked.

"They're waiting in ambush instead of hunting me down; that tells us that they're looking to talk, at least at first. Probably want to gloat before they get on with it," Six muttered, "Assholes like them just _love_ the sound of their own voice. All I need to do is keep them talking long enough to pull the pin and run like hell." He paused, head cocked in thought. _"Actually,_ now that I think about it... Think you can back me up with this one, kid?"

Taylor blinked, nodding.

"What do you need me to do?"

"I need a distraction; doesn't need to be huge, just enough to hold their attention for a few seconds until the grenades go off. Think you can do something like that?"

"I… think so, yeah," She murmured, "I can swarm them with bugs, cover up their eyes. Would that work?"

" _Perfectly._ I'll give you a signal, you wait five seconds, then unleash everything you've got, got it?"

"Yeah," Taylor nodded, "What'll you use for a signal? I can't hear conversations very well with my swarm."

" _Ah._ Hm..." Six looked down, scratching his chin. "I was going to say you'll know it when you see it, but it might be better if we can synchronize this without giving ourselves away… You control insects, could you tell if one was killed? Maybe keep one on me, and I'll crush it as the signal?"

Taylor blinked, slowly nodding as she caught on. It would be inconspicuous, something that no one but she could see if they weren't looking for it.

"Yeah, I can keep track of one if you keep it in your hand or in a pocket."

Taking a mental survey of her swarm, Taylor ordered a single beetle out of her sleeves and into her hand, which she then dropped in Six's hand; It would be big enough to not get accidentally crushed or lost within his coat.

" _Freaky."_ Six murmured flatly, dropping the insect in the palm of his off hand. "But it'll do just fine. I think I'm about ready, how about you?"

Taylor nodded silently. If Six was ready, then she'd trust his plan.

"Good kid." He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Now get your pencil ready and take notes; _I'm about to show you how we do things in the Mojave."_

Taylor couldn't help the slight chill that ran down her spine as Six's tone turned dark.

* * *

 **I know I said that the action starts with this chapter, but I got this far writing this chapter and this seemed like a good place to stop, seeing as I originally planned to have the actual fight be at least as long as this chapter, giving you a chapter of least double this length, but also taking that much longer to write. This chapter already took longer than I'm happy with to write, thanks to a combination of classes** _ **(On a totally unrelated sidenote FUCK CALCULUS)**_ **and the fact that I ended up rewriting a big part of this chapter not too long ago because Taylor's voice felt… not quite right. Somebody, I forget who, once mentioned that Taylor might be one of the hardest characters in the story to write accurately, and I can definitely say I agree. The original draft felt too… Hemmingway-esque, if you get what I mean. That might be a reasonably accurate portrayal for a later-story Taylor, but it felt too introspective and long winded for a girl who's just trying to escape her shitty regular life by playing superhero. What I've got here, I'm happy enough with. Always happy to get feedback on that sort of stuff though, so feel free to add your two cents.**

 **Next chapter for sure is when the action starts!** _ **(I totally super-duper promise this time.)**_


	23. Chapter 18

_**For the sake of clarification in this and any future chapters, if someone says "Caesar" in dialogue, they're saying it with a soft 'c'. If they say "Kaesar", then it's a hard 'c'.**_

* * *

"I'm tired of waiting." Stormtiger grunted, shifting in place. "Gonna kill this bastard myself, once he shows his damn face."

"Patience." Max Anders held out a hand placatingly. "You and Cricket both will have your revenge. Neither of you will attack before I give the word, though."

Stormtiger, scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Long as we get to do the honors." He gestured to Cricket and himself. "Brad deserves as much."

Max let out a breath; not quite a sigh, but exasperated nonetheless. He hadn't particularly wanted to bring those two on this mission; they lacked the sense for subtlety that was necessary, but they'd have raised hell if he left them out of it. Crusader and Alabaster were far better suited for action of this sort; one to restrain Courier Six without endangering himself or others, and one to keep him occupied, should things come to a fight. The twins were… less than ideal for the purpose for the same reason as Brad's subordinates, and James was one of the few Max trusted to run the legitimate side of the Empire, should events require that he stay out of the public eye for a few days.

He sighed, tapping his fingers impatiently on the kitchen countertop. Even in a best case scenario, approving this mission, let alone leading it personally, was a risky decision. Were it not for the current state of the Bay, he would have waited to take a more... _tactful_ approach to the _'Courier Six Situation'._

The Empire was skirting the razor's edge of the Unwritten Rules with this move; they could justify it by claiming that Courier Six had shot first by killing Hookwolf, but even so it was… _iffy._

In the public's eye, the Empire was a criminal organization with already dubious respect for the Rules, thanks to the _very public_ murder of Fleur years ago; this, _despite_ the fact that the idiot who had carried out the act had been nothing more than a glory-seeking fool who also _happened_ to associate himself with the Empire. The very least the man could do was allow the Empire to use his precedent to divert suspicion.

Courier Six, on the other hand, was an independent with a reputation for his relatively discriminate use of lethal force and an uncanny ability to entrench himself in the good graces of the common men and women of Brockton; a trait which put him above most others of his type. Vigilantes such as Courier Six; Gavel, and Shadow Stalker to name two, typically earned notoriety from all sides with their actions, and quickly found themselves forced to join a side, killed in turn, or otherwise _dealt with._

Courier Six, however, had, in a manner Max could only describe as artfully cunning, ingratiated himself with the public's opinion. PHO and other such sites that concerned themselves with tracking the activities of Capes had been having a field day with the man; It was as though he had no civilian identity to speak of with how often he could be spotted running errands, doing menial tasks, and generally socializing with the public. Stranger still was the number of stories being spread of Courier Six as a general handyman and odd-jobber for anyone with the balls to ask and perhaps some spare cash to pay him. One or two such stories could be dismissed as mere attention-seeking; the product of people with too much free time and not enough self respect. When dozens flocked to the message boards, though, with stories of the Duster-clad Cape that ranged from chasing off squatters to escorting unaccompanied individuals through the rougher parts of the city after dark, they were difficult to ignore entirely.

Beyond that, though, he made no real attempt to 'patrol' as most other heroes did. Certainly, he stopped what criminals he found; the ones with enough lack of intelligence or poor fortune to be caught in the act by Courier Six ended up cooling their heels in a cell if they were lucky, and handcuffed to a bed in Brockton General with _technically_ non-lethal injuries if they weren't. Then again, it wasn't as though _that_ wasn't par for the course in Brockton.

Regardless, Courier Six's actions had, in short, done more for the cause of "Parahumans as Normal People" in a few months than New Wave had in their entire decade-and-a-half of _Idyllic Suburban Family_ PR and more effectively won the public's goodwill than any of the PRT's laughable attempts at comforting the populace with their patrols and public meet-ups. As it turned out, people responded better to a friendly neighbor you can count on when you're in a pinch than they did to an untouchable demigod.

Courier Six's actions had the potential to break the status quo that the Empire rather benefitted from maintaining. He protected innocents regardless of race, unlike the racially-polarized gangs, and regardless of where they lived, unlike the Protectorate. Max didn't doubt in the slightest that Courier Six presented an appealing alternative to gangs for most people.

Could that have been his plan all along? To establish a 'gang' of his own, but on the side of good? Some sort of… Parahuman _Neighborhood Watch?_

It was an idea as intriguing as it was audacious. If people began to see capes as merely people with powers, rather than the veritable gods they were generally considered to be, completely untouchable by any conventional means, then the balance of power could very well be violently overturned by the unpowered hordes.

That concerned Max. Not in the sense that Courier Six and his actions threatened the delusion held by certain people that powers and the wielders thereof were _'special'_ and therefore _above_ the unpowered rabble; powers or no, Maxwell Anders was still the CEO of a successful pharmaceuticals corporation. No, Max was concerned because of the precedent set by Courier Six for every Parahuman in a gang in the Bay for de-escalation. The Empire, just like every other gang in the city, derived the majority of its power from its parahumans. Most, but not _all_.

The unpowered footsoldiers of the gangs played perhaps the most important role of all in the war they had locked themselves in. They _occupied_ territory. The Empire could lay claim to the entire city as 'their territory', but that claim meant nothing without a way to enforce it; Capes took land, acting as the vanguard force; but men held that territory. They patrolled for troublemakers, extracted 'protection', and scouted the enemy. No one in the Bay had enough parahumans at their beck and call to do that without making use of unpowered lieutenants.

The Empire derived its core purpose for existing from its protection of the white men and women of the city from violent psychopaths of so called _'lesser races'_ , especially those with powers such as Lung and Oni Lee. Regardless of one's personal opinions, the Empire had a reason to exist, and would continue to do so long as men like the ABB's leader lived in the bay. Every white man executed by Lung was another half dozen converts driven into the Empire's arms.

If, by some bizarre and absurdly improbable twist of fate, Courier Six were to convince Lung to commit the ABB to some more productive goal, the Empire would be forced to de-escalate in kind or face public opinion turning on them. It would also end the driving of those less committed to the cause into the Empire's arms.

Max wasn't a fool; Most men and women joined the Empire nowadays to protect themselves from the ABB or the Merchants. Beat up an asian kid, get a few swastika tattoos, shave your head, and you had some measure of protection against getting kidnapped and sold into slavery by the ABB, forcibly addicted by Merchants, or simply executed by either gang as a show of force. Remove those threats, and people would no longer need the Empire. It would undermine their powerbase at its foundations. Courier Six was proof that the concept of non-violent capes in everyday life was both tenable and realistic. Soon, he would be proof as to how _un_ tenable it really was. The sooner he was disposed of, before he could gather a serious supporter base to kick up a fuss, the better the Empire would fare.

Still, the prospect of one more threat to his power being eliminated was small comfort to Max. Every minute they spent waiting was another chance for things to go wrong: another chance for some random passerby to spot them, for the PRT to catch on and retaliate, or even for Courier Six to simply not return.

Max grabbed the radio hanging at his belt, bringing it to his mouth.

"Victor. Report."

A beat, then the radio crackled to life.

"Scouts report Courier Six entered the neighborhood just a couple minutes ago" The man murmured, "Can't be more than five, ten minutes out."  
Max grunted, returning the radio to his belt. Victor may have been a hypothetically good match for Courier Six's abilities, but they had no way of knowing how much of his skills with gunplay were genuine skill that could be stolen, and how much was augmented by his power.

Beyond that, Courier Six almost certainly had a Brute power to some degree, whereas Victor did not. It was too much risk with what they knew, so Victor had been relegated to driving their getaway car and, if needed, ready to support if a battle broke out.

Soon this upstart cape would be taken care of, and the Status Quo could return to its undisturbed state. At the very least, given the conflict that was almost certainly brewing on the horizon, the Empire would be in an advantageous position going in.

Lung's recent capture, at the hands of Courier Six himself, no less, had begun stirring up the other gangs; the ABB was almost certain to lash out soon as a show of strength, and the Merchants were opportunistic parasites. If either sensed weakness, they would not hesitate to exploit it. If the Empire could neutralize the man who had defeated Lung, however, it would be both an example for any who would challenge the Empire in as foolish and brazen a way as Courier Six had by killing Hookwolf, as well as a show of strength; proof that they were superior not just to the ABB, but to those who were themselves superior to the _'asiatic hordes'_. That Courier Six represented a more subtle, existential threat was merely the reason that he specifically had been chosen as their target.

He had crossed his arms, tapping impatiently against the metal plates when Cricket perked up, the rest of their group taking notice. Straining his ears, Max heard the sound of a sliding glass door opening in the back of the house. He snatched to radio back up, whispering into the microphone.

"Courier Six may have arrived. Go silent until I give orders otherwise."

He didn't wait for Victor to respond as he returned the device to his belt; the man had better discipline than that.

" _Well, hell-o there..."_

Courier Six's tone was calm and even, almost as though it was he who had caught them in a trap. All of their reconnaissance had given no reason to suspect an emotional manipulation component to Six's powers, merely superhuman reflexes, as well as some manner of enhanced durability. Perhaps he had some sort of personal biokinetic power? It would explain Six's Brute power, not to mention his apparent lack of fear.

Even the most foolhardy of capes wouldn't try to take five of the Empire 88's finest at once, and yet Courier Six's reaction was distinctly cheerful, as though he were greeting a neighbor.

"I don't believe I was expecting company today. More to the point, none of you look like the sort I'd normally associate myself with, being the _fine, upstanding citizen_ I am."He leaned to one side, shoulder supported against the wall and arms crossed in a clear play for dominance. "So, if you all wouldkindly _get the hell out of my house,_ then that'd be just great! Otherwise, I might have to do something you'll regret!"

Max blinked. Casual insults weren't something he was unused to, but the sheer cheerfulness with which the man before him delivered it was enough to throw him for a loop for a split second.

Once he had gotten over the initial shock, though, Max allowed himself a smirk. Courier Six had overplayed his hand in the opening exchange with that bluff. His tone implied that he had possession of some sort of trump card; some manner of parahuman backup to even the playing field. But Max knew for a fact that Courier Six had no such thing. He was alone, with no backup incoming from the PRT, New Wave, or any other group one could think of.

"Now, now, Courier Six," Max rumbled, "I see no reason for hostilities yet. My associates and I merely wished to speak with you."

' _At first,'_ Max didn't bother to add. What came later was neither here nor there.

Six snorted derisively.

" _I'm sure."_

Max would say that he was rather adept at reading people; a skill developed from years of business deals and negotiations, and further honed, especially when it came to reading masked and costumed men and women, with his experience in leading the Empire. Courier Six, inscrutable as he was, was still a man. Even with his face covered as it was, he still had his tells. Max couldn't see any overt nervous tics, and the cape's posture was carefree, but that didn't mean Courier Six couldn't be read. Just that he wasn't easy to read.

"Well, you folks came out all this way," Six sighed, "and obviously it wasn't just for a friendly chat, given all those fancy costumes you've got on. So let's skip the pleasantries, yeah? You tell me why you're here, I reply that you're a fucking dumbass, then we can get to the fighty-fight bit."

Briefly, the impulse hit Max to simply impale the man on an iron spike and leave him to bleed out; he quashed it down; to do so would be all but explicitly spitting in the face of the Unwritten Rules. More so than they already were, at least. The current plan was to use their powers to subdue Six if necessary, but it was imperative to reduce any evidence of Empire parahuman involvement. They would leave enough evidence in the form of gang tags and graffiti that there would be no doubt as to the allegiance of Courier Six's assailants, and planting a bomb would erase any clues they couldn't hide otherwise. Framing Courier Six's death as a repeat of Fleur's would ensure there was no significant repercussions upon the Empire's leadership.

 _After all, they wore the masks for a reason, didn't they?_ It was the man's own fault for not doing more to protect his identity; really, any thug with a grudge could have broken in and planted a bomb in his home. They would reap all the benefits of simply executing the man, without the eternal enmity of every Cape in existence. And if they needed a scapegoat, well, even the Empire had its share of dissidents and less-than-loyals.

Max stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"Very well then, _Mister_ Courier Six. The people gathered here in this room represent… A significant portion of the power the Empire Eighty-Eight is capable of levelling at its enemies. In the past several months, you seem to have been determined to make yourself quite an annoying enemy of the Empire. You understand where this is going, I presume?"

Courier Six nodded, humming agreeably.

" _Mhm, I think so. So you're here on your boss' behalf, then? Play the attack dog to scare me into submission, and get a nice pat on the belly for your efforts?"_

"I believe you misunderstand the gravity of your situation, _Courier."_ Max scowled, exerting his power into one of his gloves. In moments a blade sprang into being, extending from his gauntlet as he leveled the tip towards Courier Six. "I, personally, lead the Empire; each and every one of its members bows to my will. We are not here to merely scare you, either. When the Empire decides to deal with… annoyances such as yourself, it does not do so by half measures."

Six paused, inclining his head. Even still, he refused to move from his resting stance.

" _Izzat so?"_ Courier Six drawled, almost mockingly in its slowness. Either he had a poker face that put professionals to shame, or he truly believed he had a chance to survive this encounter. "I _never_ would've imagined that _little old me_ would warrant such a response..." Courier Six trailed off, muffling a snicker.

"You think this is a fucking joke?" Stormtiger growled from the far wall.

"Oh, no, not at all! Just thinking that you Empire folks sure know how to make a man feel special is all." Six laughed. Actually fucking _laughed_ in the man's face. "The wolf guy was the same way; that whole _long hair, bare chest_ thing he had going on? Not really my type, but I can see the appeal."

Six trailed off, suddenly very focused on Stormtiger.

"Huh, y'know, now that I think about it… You've actually got that same sort of look going on..." His voice was low, a near whisper. "Were you two…? _Y'know?"_

He made a very un-subtle thrusting motion with his hips.

Stormtiger howled furiously, taking a few steps towards Courier Six before Max could hold out a hand to stop him.

"Don't try to fucking stop me-"

"He's _winding. You. Up._ " Max spat. "Stick. To. The plan."

He turned to Crusader, nodding. It was time to end this farce.

"I will admit I had some questions I was planning to ask you before things came to this point," Max turned back to face Courier Six. "...But I can see that delaying things any longer would simply be wasting my own time. This is the end, Courier Six."

Courier Six cocked his head.

"So that's it? We're doing this, then?"

The change in his posture was obvious; widening his stance and raising himself to his full height, Courier Six stretched his hands, clenching and unclenching them in preparation.

" _We,_ The Empire, are." Max confirmed. _"You_ would do well to stand still and accept what comes next. It may just make your death that much less painful."

" _Really? That's funny._ _ **I was about to say the exact same thing."**_

All of a sudden, Max found himself keenly aware of the mingled sounds of buzzing insects, slaps, and muffled grunts. He whipped around; Stormtiger's chest was covered in a swarm of insects so thick it could be mistaken for a shirt, and Crusader was bent double, muffled shouts coming from his helmet which Max could only assume was just as swarmed as Stormtiger.

He started to turn back towards Six even as he felt tiny bodies crawling all over his armor, wriggling under any cracks they could find, crawling over and through the vision slits in his helmet, and scurrying across his bare skin. Max felt his blood chill as he recalled Lung's arrest report. It had made mention of a new Cape, one on their first night out. Max had written them off as mere coincidence, originally. A potential recruit, perhaps, but nothing more.

 _Stupid,_ _ **Stupid,**_ _ **Stupid!**_

Whatever abilities Courier Six possessed, Max could still kill him with one good spike through his skull. They could deal with the child that had set this swarm on their group afterwards.

Then he heard it.

Years of fighting Oni Lee had forcibly ingrained the sound in Max's memories. The metallic _'ping'_ of a grenade's safety lever being released. Several at once, in fact.

 _Tick._

It felt as though time had slowed. Max opened his mouth to scream a warning, anything; the bugs wasted no time, though, swarming into his mouth and choking him the second. He retched, his eyes bulging.

 _Tick._

He could feel a breeze picking up. Stormtiger must have got his wits about himself enough to mount a counter-attack. Perhaps he could send the explosives flying back at Six? Max looked up at the archway. Courier Six was gone. _Bastard._

 _Tick._

Max pulled desperately on his power, raising an iron wall as quickly as he could. He needed to protect himself. It rose quickly, but not quickly enough. There was no way he'd be able to protect the others and himself; they'd have to make do on their own.

 _Tick._

Something tapped against Max's shoe. He looked down, at the metal cylinder that had come to rest at his feet. He let out a breath, almost a sigh, as his shoulders sagged in realization. Quietly, unheard over the buzzing of insects and grunts and screams of their victims, Maxwell Anders let out a tiny, defeated "oh."

 _Tick._

A sledgehammer of force slammed into Max's chest, sending him back by at least a few feet, into a wall. Blinding light seared his retinas as a concussive shockwave that he felt more than heard rang his ears like a church bell, sending an excruciating pain through his skull. Dozens of sharp jabs of pain broke out over his body; like a swarm of metal locusts attacking from every angle in an instant. He heard someone screaming.

Or was that just him?

He stumbled forward, dropping to his hands and knees.

Ringing. All he could hear was ringing. All he could see was white. He blinked, squinting and trying to regain even the slightest bit of vision as stars and splotches danced in and out of view. Shaking his head, he rose to a kneel, his vision having adjusted just enough to make out general shapes and colors, however vague.

Looking around was… not good. Through the spinning, and the ringing, he could see bodies sprawled about the room, leaking blood. There were crimson splatters all over, mingling with black scorch marks and wisps of smoke. Max blinked, uncomprehending.

 _How? How did this happen?_

He pushed himself to his feet, standing on shaky legs. Across the room, Max saw _Him_. A figure clad in olive drab and dusty gray. The eyes of his mask burned a furious red. As _He_ began to charge forward, making a beeline right for Max, the Empire 88's leader could only watch dumbly, his brain still spiralling from shellshock. He and Courier Six collided with a solid 'clunk', and Max felt himself being flung bodily into the wall once again, only for the wall to give way with a wooden crunch, and the two of them to fall into the front yard.

 _The door,_ Max realized idly. _Courier Six tackled him through the front door._

He flopped onto his back, the collision of his helmet on the concrete not doing any favors to his already splitting headache. His vision lost focus for a split second, and when he looked again, he found himself staring down the barrel of a very large revolver. Courier Six kneeled over, one knee pressed against Max's breastplate.

" _Now I suggest you listen, and listen closely,_ _ **Kaiser**_ _."_ His voice came out as a near hiss; Max wasn't sure whether the man was pissed at their violation of the Unwritten Rules, or just revelling in Max's imminent death. He didn't bother lying to himself; were their roles reversed, Max wouldn't have thought twice about killing the man.

" _Right now, this gun is loaded with Semi-Wadcutter Fourty-Five-Seventy Rifle cartridges. Hand loaded 'em myself; they pack a real hefty kick."_ Courier Six leaned forward, his face inches from Max. _"To put that in layman's terms, If I pull this trigger, then no amount of armor is going to stop you getting your brains pasted across the street. If you so much as_ _ **twitch**_ _without my permission, then I pull the trigger._ _ **Understood?"**_

Max blinked; the sun shining down on his face wasn't helping the spots blinking in and out of his vision.

"Y-yes…"

" _Good._ Now, to business." Six leaned back. _At least now they weren't nose to nose,_ Max mused. He stifled the urge to giggle hysterically. This mission was entirely FUBAR now.

"As I understand it, these 'Unwritten Rules' of yours specifically frown on what you've done today. Am I right so far?"

Max grunted a vague affirmative. Victor should be mere minutes out, if not less. Perhaps if he could delay… Assuming Alabaster wasn't dead outright, he would need mere seconds to rejoin the fray. The others… They'd been even closer to Courier Six than Max… Well, he'd consider himself lucky if none of them ended up dead.

"...I'll take that as a yes. So, given that fact, I think it's safe to say we're not playing by the rules anymore. Therefore, I'd be entirely justified in killing you. You get me?"

"You wouldn't dare." Max spat. Once Alabaster arrived, Courier Six would have more reason to keep Max as a hostage than to kill him. "Kill me, and the rest of the Empire would never stop chasing you. It would be signing your own death warrant."

Six tilted his head back and forth, as if considering the idea.

"Well, you're right about the first part. The 'signing my own death warrant' part's debatable. Wouldn't be my first time, at least, _let's put it that way_. Lucky for you, though, I wasn't planning on killing you anyway."

Max blinked. Behind Courier Six, he saw Alabaster creeping out of the doorway, pistol gripped in one hand. The moment he saw Max and Six, he let out a surprised yelp, bringing his weapon to bear.

"Drop the gun, Lilywhites," Six growled, cocking his revolver's hammer "Or your glorious leader here loses a couple pounds in gray matter."

Alabaster paused, his aim wavering ever so slightly as his gaze twitched back and forth between them.

"...Stand down." Max finally commanded. They were in a standoff now; if Alabaster fired, Max died. If Six killed Max, then Alabaster would have no reason not to shoot Six.

" _Smart man."_ Six murmured, relaxing imperceptibly as Alabaster lowered his gun. "Now then, as I was saying; I don't intend to kill you, Kaiser. I made that mistake last time, and dealing with all the so-called 'avengers' that creating a martyr brings just isn't worth it."

Courier Six shrugged, almost a 'what-can-you-do?' sort of movement.

"But an example needs to be made. And who better than the leader of your whole goddamn army of assholes?"

With his free hand, Six reached into his coat, and pulled out a switchblade, flicking it open and bringing the blade up to the vision slit of Max's helmet.

"Let me be clear, Kaiser," He continued, "This is only because you were the first one to do this; you get to be the one to spread the word. Where I come from, there are no _Unwritten Rules_. Someone fucks with you? You kill them, or get killed. Pull this shit again, _and I'll hang your not-quite-a-corpse in my front yard so I can sip tequila and watch you bleed out._ _ **Understood?**_

Max nodded nervously. What Courier Six was implying with that blade did not bode well…

"Oh, and in case Whitey over there gets any funny ideas," He raised his voice, loud enough that there was no doubt Alabaster could hear, "We wouldn't want this impromptu eye surgery to turn into impromptu brain surgery, would we?"

Max's blood froze in his veins. Every instinct in his body screeched at him to defend himself, to impale Courier Six on an iron spike, to call for his allies' aid.

But he was painfully aware of the revolver pointed directly at his head. To try to call Six's bluff here, when enhanced reflexes was one of the few pieces of concrete information the Empire had, was outright suicide.

Courier Six reared back, switchblade clutched in his hand, and Max found himself with a choice. _Allow himself to be maimed, or die with dignity?_

He made a decision.

Maxwell Anders would not die today.

He closed his eyes in acceptance, gritting his teeth and steeling himself for pain.

The blade fell.

Kaiser _screamed_.

* * *

 **Hey folks! Pretty crazy chapter huh?**

 **I have to admit, I was a little wary of writing this chapter as...** _ **brutally**_ **as I did, especially the end part. In the… let's call it the 'original draft' of the first few chapters, I wrote Six to be less goofy and more** _ **'sooper seereeus'**_ **and it didn't go over very well. I like to think that since then, I've gotten a better handle on Six as a character, among other things, and that in this context, getting a bit more down, dirty, and brutal actually fits the story rather than being unnecessarily edgy for its own sake, but I suppose I'm still just nervous about making the same mistake twice over. The goofiness isn't gone, and I'm particularly proud of one specific segment here in that regard, so don't worry, but... Well, there's really no good way to make stuff like 'murder' and 'viciously mutilated a guy as a threat' funny. At least, not with my level of skill.**

 **The other part I wasn't so sure about was Kaiser. His viewpoint, explaining his thought process, the events and reasons that led up to this point… It all just felt very infodump-y. And I can't just not do it, because then that leaves the questions of 'why the fuck are they doing this?' and 'who's doing what?' and 'why these people?' Again; I've got no real good solution, just my best attempt at a decent one. I think I got his actual** _ **character**_ **decently… Generally manipulative, searching for motives and always looking for an angle that's beneficial to him. It's not the worst, I guess is what I'm saying; it's up to you guys whether that means merely** _ **not bad**_ **or actually** _ **good**_ **.**

 **Mostly, though, I just wanted to make sure you guys didn't have to wait any longer than absolutely necessary. Even made this chapter a bit heftier than usual. Don't say I don't do nice things for you. 3**


	24. Chapter 19

Taylor winced as Six's trap went off, the half-dozen or so grenades exploding almost simultaneously. Observing through her bugs as they bit and stung at the villains

right up to their dying breath, Taylor's mind flashed with the sensations of _heatlightpressure_ _ **fire**_ experienced through a few hundred insects' senses all at once compressed down and shoved into her brain through her power.

It was… _disorienting._ Not terribly so, but enough to give her pause; as though she had been standing in a dark room, and then someone suddenly popped up and shined one of those _'ultra-bright'_ LED flashlights in her eyes. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, calling in the rest of the swarm she hadn't sent into the house to get a look at the aftereffects of the blast.

She heard the _crunch_ of wood shattering, and watched from a hundred different angles as Six tackled Kaiser out through the front door of his house, the Empire leader flailing for a moment before being firmly pinned under Six's knee with a gun aimed at his head. Taylor didn't think too much of it; if anything, it lifted a slight weight from her shoulders. She _did_ want to be a hero, after all, and killing people, even if she wasn't _technically_ the one who killed them; _even if they were villains_ , wasn't very heroic. That Six was restraining Kaiser like he was just meant that the man was still enough of a threat to warrant that kind of treatment.

 _Right?_

He had gone out of his way to not kill Lung last time, if only just; hopefully he had the same intentions today.

When one of the other capes from Kaiser's hit-squad stumbled out of the destroyed house, Taylor tensed. She still had enough of a swarm gathered outside the house that she could bury the man under a pile of wasps, flies, and mosquitoes, but he had a gun. She'd never be able to attack him fast enough to stop him shooting Six.

Could Six survive the bullet? Maybe; he was definitely some sort of Brute. Did she want to take the chance? Not at all.

 _Perhaps she could jam the mechanism? Could she force enough insects down the barrel to slow the bullet at all? Stop it from firing entirely?_

Taylor watched in tense silence as Six turned to stare the villain down, grunting something she couldn't make out from behind the building. The standoff stretched on, from one second to two. Then three.

Then the Empire cape lowered his gun.

Taylor blinked. _What had...?_

She realized a moment later; _Kaiser._ Six literally had him at gunpoint. No Empire thug would risk their leader's life.

So Six was, at the very least, not in imminent danger. Okay. _Good._

 _Now what?_

Even if Six was out of danger of being shot, he was still locked in a standoff with another cape. Someone was going to have to make a move, otherwise they'd be stuck there until…

' _Oh. Oh wow,_ _ **that's**_ _clever.'_

They were in one of the nicer neighborhoods, well within the territory that the PRT actually patrolled regularly; here, their response time would be minutes. All they had to do was waste time until the Heroes arrived. Had Six planned this entire fight to go like that? He _had_ to have some sort of Thinker power at play; a normal cape fight would have leveled the better part of the block by now.

Taylor watched as Six pulled out some sort of switchblade, waving it around in front of Kaiser's face. _Okay_ , Six had to make a point somehow, right? He'd do something like in the movies, probably, use the knife to cut Kaiser somewhere painful _but-...!_

Taylor jumped, shocked, as Six plunged his knife into the viewslit of Kaiser's helmet; she could hear the villain's shrieks of pain from all the way in the backyard.

It wasn't the kind of sound a sane human made. The closest comparison she could recall was... the day Mom died. Dad's wail of despair when they realized that she was truly gone was… hell, listening to that sound might have been even more painful than Mom's actual funeral. It was one of those memories that she'd never be able to forget, as much as she might wish she could, sometimes; _Mom's death… Emma slamming the door in her face…_ _ **The Locker...**_

The sound of Kaiser's screaming as Six gouged his eye out was… admittedly, not quite as impactful, but it was close; Kaiser wasn't her father, after all.

Of course, she felt horrified at what she saw too, but it was a sort of dull, resigned horror; familiar territory for the Trio's favorite target. How many steps above anything they'd done was this? Could she honestly say she thought this was above what Sophia could do? If anything, she took a small, dark pleasure in seeing that kind of suffering directed towards someone actually deserving of it for once.

 _Did that make her a bad person?_

No. She didn't think so. Kaiser had done far worse than this; she'd seen what happened to people caught in the crossfire of his power. It still didn't _feel right,_ though… Heroes didn't gouge out the eyes of villains, no matter how evil.

 _Six wasn't a normal hero, though._

He killed people, and he didn't seem to feel any remorse about it either. But he also helped people. She had browsed the thread dedicated to him on PHO; Six didn't just go around shooting people in his free time, and more often than not, he actually tried to de-escalate fights when he could. At least once, someone had claimed he let _himself_ get shot just to keep them from getting shot.

So what did that make him? Too violent to be a Protectorate hero, but obviously not a villain… Six was unique in Brockton Bay because of that. Shadow Stalker had been like that too, before joining the Wards. People liked Six for the same reason they liked her; they were capes that got things done. They had tangible results, and didn't waste time with things like public appearances like the Protectorate did. But they also didn't have the PRT's support.

Taylor had done the research, back when she was still figuring out her powers; she knew the survival rates of independents. Six had already beat the odds they gave, six to eight months before an independent ended up either forced into a gang or dead. _This situation, right here and now,_ was what they were referring to; The Empire was here to either kill or recruit Six.

By becoming a Cape herself, Taylor realized, she was accepting that same risk. Accepting that she could be killed; could be maimed, just as Courier Six was doing to Kaiser now. She could be forced to endure even worse than anything the Trio had thrown at her. Anything they _could_ throw at her.

The Empire had gone after Six, probably as revenge for Hookwolf. After today, though, they'd want revenge for this too. And while she hadn't had any part in Hookwolf's death, Taylor had definitely played a part in humiliating the Empire here. She'd probably hit the point of no return the moment she agreed to help Six ambush the Empire.

They might come after _her_ now. They might break into her home, try to ambush her like they did here. Obviously they were _capable_ of doing it; they'd already tried at least once with Six.

 _They might threaten Dad…_

With that realization, Taylor felt some immaterial part of herself grow calcified to Kaiser's screams; watching impartially from a thousand insectile eyes at every angle as the villain scratched and grabbed pathetically at Six's arms.

 _No. The Empire would_ _ **not**_ _threaten her family. Had this been_ _ **her**_ _house,_ _ **her**_ _father at risk, she wouldn't have hesitated to do the same. Six was absolutely right; the Empire needed to be taught, in no uncertain terms,_ _ **never**_ _to do this. The alternative was unacceptable_.

Taylor closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. Then she opened them, cocking her head as the sound of a roaring engine faded into earshot. Immediately, she sent her swarm out, searching for the source.

 _There!_

Racing down the road in their direction was a white van; like the sort you saw used by electricians or plumbers. It must have been for Kaiser's group.

Taylor drew upon her swarm. Every insect she had in range, she called; Wasps, Roaches, Flies, Spiders, and more. She'd show the Empire that she wasn't any more of an acceptable target than Six was, risk of allergic reactions be damned.

The van screeched to a stop in the middle of the street, right in front of the house. As the side door slid open, a trio of armed men opened fire from inside the vehicle. Taylor watched for a split second as Six rolled off of Kaiser's writhing form, brought his revolver to bear, and let off a shot of his own before sending her swarm in through the opening. Six's shot caught one of the gunmen, throwing him into the other side of the van, but the door had already begun closing back up as the shooters realized their mistake, covering the others from any followup shots. Still, Taylor managed to squeeze a hundred or two flying bugs through the opening before the van sealed back up. As small as it was, though, even that small swarm was enough to distract the gunmen, stinging and biting everywhere they could reach even as they were crushed by the handful; she made sure to focus the bugs' aggression towards their faces, crotches, and any other sensitive areas she could think of.

The statistics didn't lie; it was this or risking death, or worse. No going back now.

Taylor felt the ground rumble, and shifting the bulk of her attention back outside the van, she saw a wall of metal sprouting across the front yard, neatly separating Kaiser and his reinforcements from the rest of the yard. The wall grew taller and taller, until Taylor could see it from where she stood in the backyard. When it finally stopped, Kaiser keeled over from the sitting position he had pulled himself into, and curled into a fetal ball. He was still save for a slight shaking to Taylor's bug senses, so she decided to ignore him, turning her attention instead to Six and the cape he was wrestling with.

It seemed the Empire lackey had taken the initiative to attack Six in the immediate aftermath of the van's arrival. The two rolled across the yard, punching and kicking, having tossed away or dropped their weapons in their fight. Six obviously had an advantage in size and strength, but the Empire cape just didn't seem to be feeling any sort of wear or fatigue as the fight wore on. Six landed a serious blow that left one of the man's arms bent at a painful looking angle, but barely a couple seconds later it was as if the limb was good as new.

The Empire had a regenerator, she recalled. She didn't remember the name off the top of her head, but that didn't matter. She called her swarm back, save for the few in the van that still hadn't been crushed by the gunmen, and sicced them all upon the Empire cape. The bugs formed a veritable carpet of chitin over the front lawn, swarming over both of the capes, but only biting one. For all the bugs attacking, though, it barely seemed to faze the man. She moved on to the more dangerous parts of her swarm; wasps, fire ants, black widows, all injecting as much poison as they physically could, but still nothing. She tried swarming his face, which seemed to slow him down a bit, but more because of his suddenly reduced vision than any actual discomfort. Taylor did all she could, and still it wasn't enough.

She let out a gasp as the regenerator drew a knife from his costume. He reared back, bringing the blade down to stab at Six's throat, only for it to be caught in an open palm. The blade pierced clean through Six's hand, only for his fingers to wrap around the guard, yank it out of his opponent's grip, and drive the hilt into the cape's nose. The force snapped the man's head back, giving Six a chance to kick him off entirely, and draw another bulky pistol from under his jacket with his uninjured hand. The gun barked off seven shots, concentrated fire severing the cape's leg at the knee. He fell backwards, visibly bleeding from his stump leg, but another second later and he was already struggling back to his feet. That was all Six needed to seize the initiative, though, pouncing on the man with a demented howl Taylor could hear from the other side of the house.

Six seemed to have things more or less under control. Once again, she shifted her focus towards Kaiser and the Van, and cursed. She hadn't left many bugs to watch the other side of the wall when she had tried to interfere in Six's brawl, and so she had barely a handful of insects left to watch and try to attack as a pair of figures unceremoniously tossed Kaiser's body into the van and dove in behind him. The door hadn't even had a chance to close completely before the van pulled a U-turn, tires screeching and rocketing off the way it had come. Within moments, the van, and the bugs inside, were out of her range.

And like that, the fight was over. Six was still doing his best to beat the regenerator cape to a bloody pulp, but otherwise, there was no one left to fight.

 _They had won._

Unsteadily, Taylor rose to her feet. She still wasn't entirely sure she had really seen what she had. The Empire was the biggest gang in the bay; almost as much a fact of life as the Boat Graveyard and mass unemployment. And yet, Six had taken out nearly half their capes in under _five minutes._ It almost didn't feel real.

She unlatched the back fence gate, slipping through and shuffling up through the side yard. Taylor wasn't sure she wanted to see the aftermath of Six's initial trap; there had been five people waiting when she arrived; only two of them had come out. If she had assisted Six in killing three people, villainous capes they might be, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. _Ignorance was bliss_ , after all…

Approaching the corner of the house, Taylor heard grunting and the steady, meaty _thud, thud, thud_ of fists on flesh.

" _Mother…! Fucking…! Sonofa…!_ _ **Bitch...!"**_

She rounded the corner, clearing her throat to try and get Six's attention as quietly and politely as she could. Six froze, panting hard. His head turned sharply to side-eye Taylor. She froze.

"Oh… Hey. Great work with those bugs, kid. A- _fucking_ -plus."

He loosed another blow on the regenerator's face, shattering the man's nose with an audible snap. The Empire 88 cape was completely white; not just caucasian, but literally the color white across his entire body, like a living marble statue. _Alabaster_ , if she remembered correctly.

" _By the way,_ you know any way to put this guy down with a bit more... finality?" Six grunted, shattering Alabaster's nose with another punch as his power reformed it. "None of my usual methods seem to be working, and as fun as this is, my arms are getting a bit tired."

Taylor nodded numbly.

"I don't think he's much stronger than a normal person, you can just tie him up." She groped around in the pockets of her coat, pulling out a little bundle of zip-ties she had nabbed from her dad's workbench. "These should work, I think."

Six took the plastic strips, standing up and forcing Alabaster to flip onto his stomach before wrenching his arms behind his back and securing them with multiple ties. The Empire cape let out a few grunts and other non-verbal complaints, but otherwise, he seemed to know when he was beaten. Just for good measure, Six zip-tied his ankles together too.

" _Tough motherfucker, ain't you?"_ Six grunted, staring down at his captive as he stood back up. " _Now don't say shit if you know what's good for you."_

Taylor watched with morbid curiosity as Six finally removed the knife from his hand with a wet _'schlick'_.

"Ah well; this's on me anyway," He chuckled, injecting a syringe into his wrist. "I came out here expecting Legion fanatics, not Fiends too doped up to feel all the broken bones. Either way, I'd call today a success!"

Taylor blinked.

"But… Kaiser got away. I get that the point was to…" She suppressed the urge to shudder at the memory, "do... _what you did_ to him, to warn anyone else from doing the same thing, but was it alright to let him go?"

" _Eeeh…_ Nyeh." Six shrugged, shuffling over the front step and sitting down. "Honestly, it might be better in the long term that we let him go. I'd have left him with the PRT if I could, but he's the leader; he can tell all his goons to fuck off, which saves us the trouble of dealing with them later."

Taylor didn't say anything. Kaiser was still on the loose, _but if it meant her dad was that much safer…_

"Do you think that'll work? You said that they broke rules attacking here, why wouldn't they break them again?"

"Three things." Six held up a finger. "Firstly, as we've proven today, I absolutely _could_ kill him if I wanted to; that means he has a vested interest in not pissing me off, which means telling his lackeys to fuck off." He held up a second finger. "Next, the ones that _are_ smart enough to try something _this_ devious _,_ " He swept a hand out, over all the wreckage of the fight across the yard and back at the house, "Are also smart enough to do what they're told. _Isn't that right, you loyal attack dog, you~!"_

Six kneeled down, cooing into Alabaster's face. Rather than speak, the Empire cape replied by spitting in his face. Six kicked him in the face, shattering his nose once again.

" _A-ny-way…"_ Six groused, wiping off his mask. "As our friend here has just demonstrated, _third,_ the ones that are too stupid to know better also tend to be too stupid to actually have any sort of strategy; they'll just charge us head on from a mile off. Word of advice kid, smart people are predictable. Stupid people are stupidly predictable, as long as you're working on good information."

Six leaned in, shielding his mouth and whispering as if sharing a secret.

" _The ones you really gotta look out for are the smart guys playing dumb; people love to explain their plans to the stupid hired muscle, and those guys know it."_

Taylor nodded, half-understanding. She wasn't… _entirely_ sure how that applied to everything else Six was saying, but it certainly matched what she knew. How many times had the Trio all but admitted to what they had done, confident that even if she went to the administration, nothing would happen? Could she turn that against them? Make them out themselves in some way that they couldn't possibly cover up? Maybe… They had hushed up the _'Locker Incident'._ If they could cover that up, then how big would be _too_ big to bury?

Taylor was snapped out of her musings by a humanoid figure zipping through the air, beelining straight for them. It slowed as it approached, a growing ball of dread forming in her stomach, finally stopping a few feet in front of them.

" _Courier Six."_ The hero Glory Girl hovered before them, scowling.

"You." Six shot back.

" _What the fuck did you do this time?"_ She snapped.

"Who said _I_ did anything?" Six whined, throwing up his hands exasperatedly. "I don't believe this! Attacked in my own home, twice in one day!"

Glory Girl blinked. In an instant, Taylor felt the roiling mass in her stomach start to dissipate. Not entirely, but enough to remember that the Empire _had_ attacked first.

"But… _Wait…_ _ **Your**_ home?" She frowned. "First off, since _when?"_

" _Bout a few months."_ Six waggled his hand. "Give or take. I've got the paperwork, if you want proof. Or the keys to the front door, I got those too."

He started to gesture at the door. Or rather, at the splinters and shrapnel that used to be the door.

" _...Yyyeah, gonna need to take a raincheck on that last one."_ He said slowly. "I've been doing some, uh… _renovations."_ He trailed off, eventually shrugging. "Anyway, while you're here, I've got a question for you: these 'Unwritten Rules' I've heard about, how seriously do people take them? 'Cuz I was under the impression that gathering up a mob to attack a man in his own home was kind of frowned upon."

"That's… _Fucking christ,"_ The heroine breathed, eyes boggling, "You said a mob? I only see Alabaster; who else was here? Where are they?"

"Well, there was our buddy Kaesar… He's probably out shopping for eyepatches. Or, he will be, once he gets over the whole 'getting his eye gouged out' thing."

Glory Girl's jaw dropped.

"I know, I know; I _am_ a gracious and merciful man…" He trailed off, chuckling in a devil-may-care kind of way. "Anyway, after that, there were those three other people. That guy who was fucking that other guy I killed a few months back, the lady with the metal bondage gear mask, and that other guy, in the armor…" Six trailed off, looking almost thoughtful, despite the splashes of blood across his right side. "I should probably go make sure they're not, _y'know,_ dead."

He stood and stretched, looking for all the world as if he could care less whether or not they actually lived.

" _...What did you do to them, Six?"_ Glory Girl murmured, her dread audible as she followed Six into the charred and smoking remains of the building's first floor. Taylor, after a moment of indecision, followed the two of them inside, not sure what else to do. From further ahead, she could hear their conversation.

" _Yeesh…"_

" _Oh my god… Six, I don't think they're going to survive long enough to get them to a doctor…"_

" _Nah, don't worry. You ever seen a head injury? They just bleed a lot like that."_

" _And what about Stormtiger's severed arm!?"_ The heroine's voice was near hysterical.

" _I can fix that... More or less."_

Taylor rounded the corner, cringing at the ground zero of Six's trap. There was a charred crater in the floor, around the epicenter of where the grenades had gone off, and the three villains that hadn't weathered the blast as well as Alabaster were all sprawled across the floor. Six was crouched over Crusader, the Master's armor burnt in some sections, with gashes cut down to the flesh and bleeding in others, like he had been attacked with a can opener. Stormtiger's arm wasn't _entirely_ severed, but what was left connecting the limb to his body wasn't much; a few tendons and the muscles between them at most. The last one, though...

 _Cricket._

Taylor found herself staring for a good few seconds before tearing her gaze away. The woman had come out of the trap probably the worst off of anyone; her body was a patchwork of scorched and burnt skin, from pink all the way to an ashy black. There were deep gashes as well; she could see down to the bone in some places.

It was a gruesome sight, and suddenly Taylor understood that feeling that people always talked about when you were at the scene of a tragedy; that morbid desire to just watch as a train crashed in slow motion. There was no sudden desire to help or even to turn away, just an unconscious fixation; a vague unease in her hindbrain giving off a quiet but insistent assertion of _wrong-_ ness.

"Alright, this guy's probably not gonna die anytime soon." Six grunted, looking up from Crusader's form.

" _Probably?"_ Glory Girl hissed; she was floating a few inches off the ground, pacing back and forth and wringing her hands.

"Yes, as in, _'I can't find anything obviously life-threatening'_ , whereas _those two,"_ Six nodded towards the other injured villains, "I'm a little more concerned about. Get this guy out of here; you got something to tie him up with?"

The heroine nodded, sinking down to hook her arms under Crusader's armpits.

"Yeah… I've got some zip cuffs. I'll get him secured, then I can go get A- _Panacea._ " She caught herself, grimacing slightly. "She's at the hospital, but I don't think they'll get to her in time if she has to wait for them to come to her; I can bring her here."

Six hummed affirmatively.

"Probably a good idea; you do that. Those PRT guys have to be close, right? They can take care of the prisoners."

Almost without thinking, Taylor stepped out of the way and watched as Glory Girl hurried past, Crusader suspended limply from her arms. His head lolled back and forth as she carried him, neck as limp as the rest of his body.

" _Hey, Kid!"_

She jolted out of her near stupor, looking back to Six, who had shuffled over to Stormtiger's body.

" _C'mere,_ I could use a second pair of hands for this; it'll be a good chance for you to learn some field medicine while we're at it."

"I'm... is that a good idea?" She asked, even as she made her way to his side. "I don't want to accidentally mess something up…"

' _And kill him'_ was the unsaid addition.

"It'll be fine," Six waved her off, "Experience is the best teacher there is, and I'll be right here to make sure nothing goes wrong."

Taylor bit her lip, looking between Six and Stormtiger. Finally, nodding, she knelt next to Six.

" _Alright._ What do you need me to do?"

"Well, first things first, obviously, we gotta stop this guy from bleeding out." As he spoke, Six started to dig around inside his coat. "Let's see how much you know already; how would you suggest we stop the bleeding for a wound that big?"

Taylor looked down at the ragged wound, then averted her eyes; trying to look at the injury without having to stare directly at the stump where Stormtiger's arm once was. Without letting herself fixate on the bone tip sticking out of the end, like a snapped tree branch where his elbow should have been.

 _How did they do it in the movies? No, wait, it wouldn't work like that in real life, would it? Or, maybe… Sometimes movies were accurate, right?_

Unbidden, Cricket's face flashed in her mind. The woman's expression had been flat, almost peaceful; made all the more disconcerting being juxtaposed to the violent injuries marring her body.

" _...Kid?"_

"I… _I don't know!"_ She snapped, her tone bordering on the hysterical, "I-... You're supposed to burn it closed, I think. Right?"

Six was silent for a moment. He had leaned back from her outburst, seeming almost taken aback. When he spoke again, he did so slowly, in a low voice.

"That's… uh, yeah, that's one way to do it. Hurts like hell though, so it's more of a last ditch kind of thing, if you can help it." Six pulled out a worn leather bag with a symbol of a caduceus engraved on the side, dropping it next to her feet. "Grab me the tubing in there, will you? I can do the dirty work, but having an assistant's always helpful; I'll give you the shorthand version."

Taylor paused, nodding shakily. She unclasped the clamshell bag and pulled it open to dig through the supplies inside. There were some bandages, a few syringes labeled _Med-X_ , a bottle of vodka… _There_.

She snatched a bundle of rubber tubing out of the bag, looking up just in time to see Six sever the rest of the flesh and muscle connecting Stormtiger's arm with a massive bowie knife.

"I've seen some good doctors reattach severed limbs before, but we don't have time for that kind of operation right now," He explained, "As bad as it is, it'll be easier to just cut it off completely and hand both pieces to someone better equipped to fix him up."

Taylor nodded, more reflexive than anything, holding out her prize.

"Here, the tubing you asked for?"

Six looked up, nodded appreciatively, and grabbed the tubing, wrapping it around Stormtiger's stump.

" _Thanks._ We just want to tie off the arm here; you could probably use a few of those plastic ties in a pinch if you needed to, but really anything works, long as it's strong enough to stem the blood flow."

As if to mark his point, Six finished tying off the tourniquet, twisting the tubing as tight as he could around Stormtiger's upper bicep, right above where it had been severed. As he did, the steady spurts of blood gushing from the stump slowed to a small trickle.

"Right, so that's that dealt with," Six sighed, "You mind unwrapping up one of those bandages for me? I'm just gonna bandage it up, Stimpak it and then we can move on."

Taylor turned back to the bag, digging through it for a second before snatching one of the plastic packages marked 'First Aid Dressing', tearing off the top and handing the unwrapped bandage to Six. He grabbed the roll of elastic cloth with one hand, glove streaked with blood, as the other pulled out a large-ish syringe. In one motion, Six stabbed the device down into Stormtiger's arm, depressed the button with a pneumatic hiss, and tossed the used needle to the side. Another minute later, and the stump was bandaged tight.

Six let out a breath.

" _Alright…_ That's about as much as we can really do for this guy. Why don't you go take a breather, kid?"

Taylor opened her mouth to protest, but Six silenced her; gripping her shoulder with one slightly bloodied hand.

" _Kid. Get some air."_ His tone brooked no argument. Taylor let her shoulders sag; he didn't think she could handle it.

 _Maybe she couldn't. Not if she had to deal with this kind of thing on a regular basis._

"I've seen trained medics freeze up at less serious shit than this." He continued, patting her shoulder. "You did good, kid. _I'm_ the one who fucked up; forgot that you're not used to seeing this kind of thing. Now go."

Taylor paused, looking down at Stormtiger's prone form. He was in bad shape; his skin was pale, nearly ashen, and covered in dozens of angry red cuts from shrapnel. _Much longer,_ she realized, _and he likely would have died._

But he was still alive, at least for the moment. She looked back to Six and nodded solemnly before turning back towards the front door. In the very far distance, she heard the bass-y chugging of a motorcycle at full throttle. She sent her swarm out and identified a familiar blue-and-silver motorcycle racing towards them; Armsmaster was approaching.

Taylor closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. _She could handle this._

 _Maybe if she repeated it enough times, it would come true._

* * *

 **Phew… This chapter ended up a** _ **lot**_ **more dense than I planned. It remains to be seen whether that's for the better or worse. That means** _ **at least**_ **another chapter before we can move on.**

 **Mostly, I'm just hoping that things were accurate. I did a fair bit of research on first aid and the like, so I'm hoping that was accurate enough, if anyone with medical training want to chime in in that regard.**

 **Taylor's viewpoint is the other major concern I had… She may be the main character, but damn if it isn't hard getting a bead on her personality. She's good at rationalizing doing things for the greater good, and so much of Worm is unreliable narrator, so** _ **who fucking knows, yanno?**_ **For all I know, this could be a matter of Taylor-In-Name-Only already, and I'd have no idea, beyond a few particular character traits. Neither does it help that I'm also adding external character development to her personality, so it** _ **should**_ **be** _ **slightly**_ **T.I.N.O** _ **.**_ **but not** _ **too much,**_ **ya dig?**

 _ **Blugh.**_

 **Anyway; enjoy!**


	25. Chapter 20

Taylor stood silently, watching as Armsmaster's bike slowed to maneuver around the remains of Kaiser's wall, puttering to a stop in the middle of the yard. He dismounted, extending his halberd as he did, and turned to face her with a frown.

"Cazador." He spoke, more a statement of fact than a greeting. "Would I be correct in assuming that Courier Six is also involved in this mess?"

Taylor nodded, pointing towards the broken doorframe.

"He's inside. Some of the Empire 88's capes got…" She trailed off, wracking her brain for an accurate euphemism to describe the scene inside, _"Messed up._ By the trap Six set for them."

" _Messed up?"_ Armsmaster cocked his head. "Were there civilian casualties?"

"No, no," She shook her head frantically, "Only a couple villains. Cricket and Stormtiger, I think. Crusader got caught in the blast too, but Six said he probably wasn't too hurt."

She gestured down at Crusader's form, laid out face up next to Alabaster with his hands tied together.

" _Probably?"_ Armsmaster growled, crouching down and reaching a hand under the villain's chestplate. "There are any number of injuries that aren't immediately visible: Internal bleeding, broken ribs, concussions; do you know whether he checked for any of those?"

"I… No, I don't know." Taylor blinked, shaking her head. "Six said he didn't have anything that was obviously life-threatening; Glory Girl flew off to bring Panacea back a few minutes ago, I don't know when she'll be back."

"Fine." Armsmaster growled, standing back up. "I'm going to go make sure Courier Six doesn't make things any worse. _Don't. Go. Anywhere._ "

Taylor swallowed her indignation at the insinuation; the way he shot her a glare while he spoke, it was as if he expected her to make a break for it the moment he turned his back.

After a moment of silence, he turned away, striding through the remains of the front door and murmuring into his wrist.  
 _"All teams, move in. Two Empire capes in custody, possibly more in need of medical attention…"  
_ And then he was out of earshot.

Taylor stared at the empty doorway for a moment, half expecting Armsmaster to pop back out, just to add on some little snipe about something else she'd done wrong. But he didn't, and so she only let out a sigh, sinking down to sit on the step as the signature low _'whee-oo'_ of the PRT Vans echoed out, just barely audible from where she sat, and only growing louder the longer it carried on.

Taylor slumped forward, cradling her chin in her hands.

 _Great, now she got to be talked down to by a whole bunch of PRT troopers, on top of getting yelled at by Armsmaster. It's not like they had just taken down a third of capes from the largest gang in the Bay or anything._

And okay, _yes,_ maybe it was a little overkill, considering the shape it had left Stormtiger and Cricket in, but what other choice did they have? The more she thought about it, the more she could only conclude that Six was right. Letting the Empire get away would have just meant that they could come back another day to try the same thing, and maybe get away with it too. If they had called the PRT, then whoever was in that van probably would have informed Kaiser, and then there would have been an even bigger fight, if there was any fight at all.

They didn't have a choice.

Taylor let out a sigh, shaking her head.

She only had herself to blame; why would the Armsmaster and the PRT be any different from Blackwell and the rest of Winslow? They saw what they wanted to see, and screw anyone who said anything to the contrary.

She watched somberly as a trio of the PRT's black and purple vans rumbled down the street, turning onto the sidewalk and blocking off the road in either direction. The moment they skidded to a stop, the back doors swung open to disgorge nearly a dozen PRT Troopers each, as well as…

 _Huh. She didn't expect any of the Wards to show up; and yet, here they were._

One; a smaller girl in green… that would be Vista; and the other one in the white suit, covered head to toe in clock symbols… would be Clockblocker, obviously.

Taylor cocked one eyebrow. Seemed like a big response, given that the fight was already over. The PRT Troopers, she understood, even if there were more of them than really seemed necessary; they had gone to work securing Alabaster and Crusader nearly the moment they stepped out of the vans, hosing the former down in containment foam, and standing guard over the latter as a trooper carrying a first aid kit looked him over.

A few of them had acknowledged her with a nod or some other small greeting as they passed, but for the most part they seemed content to leave her be, and Taylor was happy to return the same. Still, it didn't feel right just sitting around while other people were busy doing things…

Looking around the yard, Taylor saw Clockblocker and Vista chatting quietly, standing in the shade provided by one of the vans. Well, it couldn't _hurt_ to meet a few of the Wards, right? Even if she wasn't planning on joining, they'd probably at least end up having to work together from time to time.

Taylor pulled herself to her feet, taking a moment to stretch before making her way over to the van, picking a path around the troopers and villains covering a good part of the lawn. In the back of her mind, she wished her coat had pockets, just so she could have something for her hands to do. Sure, it had more than a few internal pouches sewn into the lining, but she couldn't exactly put her hands inside them without either contorting her arms in weird ways, or taking it off entirely.

Most of those pockets were empty now, but she had put a few of them to use holding random odds and ends that might be useful, mostly stuff she had originally planned on keeping in the now less convenient compartment built into the back of her costume; things like the spiked brass knuckles Six had given her not even a week ago.

Almost without thought, she moved her hand over the pockets where they rested at either side of her hip, patting them protectively through the coat. It was… reassuring, to know that they were there. Maybe she would never actually use them to punch someone, but just knowing she _could…_ Well, she felt better with them than without.

As Taylor approached the Wards, she could hear the tail end of their conversation, though it didn't sound like anything important.

"...I'm just saying, this is like, the third time they've broken up _this year_. I don't think it's going to stick this time any more than all the other- Oh, _hey…"_ Clockblocker trailed off, as if he was greeting someone he only vaguely remembered. _"Cazador,_ right?"

Vista spun around, letting out a quiet _'eep'_ as Taylor approached, nodding.

"Yeah, I guess that's me. Clockblocker, right?"

" _The one and only,"_ He bowed, "And may I just say, I Caz- _adore_ your costume. Very professional looking."

Taylor paused mid-stride, processing his words. To her side, Vista face-palmed and let out a low groan.

"Oh my god, _Clock-!"_

"Hey, I saw the opportunity, I took it!" He protested. "And _besides,_ it's true! Just look at her costume; way better quality than that other guy, Browbeat or whoever, had."

For a split second, space twisted in a way that made Taylor's brain hurt as Vista reached over, slapping Clockblocker upside the head despite being a foot shorter and a few feet away.

"You shouldn't be talking about him like that; he's your teammate."

"Yeah, but I mean, it's true! The guy was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt!" Clockblocker threw up his hands. "Meanwhile, Cazador here's got frickin'... _I don't know,_ something professionally made, probably."

"I made this myself, actually..." Taylor murmured, glad she was wearing a mask that hid her entire face; otherwise, everyone would probably be able to see her blushing. "Well, except for the coat, I guess. It used to be one of Six's; I wove the rest out spider silk myself."

Both Wards paused, turning to face her.

"...Spider silk?" Vista asked, almost hesitantly.

"Yeah, I can control bugs." Taylor explained. There were a few insects she still had nearby, mostly the ones that weren't so useful for biting or stinging other people. Things like butterflies, worms, a few kinds of beetles. She called a few butterflies over, letting them land on her hand as she spoke. "I just gathered up a bunch of spiders and made them spin as much web as they could. Learning how to weave it into cloth wasn't that hard once I figured out the basics. Apparently, it's supposed to be as strong as steel."

Clockblocker let out a low whistle.

"That is… _impressive."_ He finally said.

"Impressive nothing," Vista interrupted, _"That's amazing!_ Do you think you could make stuff like that for other people? I bet the PRT would pay good money if you could make stuff like that for the Troopers."

" _I-_ Maybe…?" Taylor offered. "I don't have a really big setup right now; it took me a few months just to make my costume."

"Oh… Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Vista's disappointment was visible, though she hid it pretty quickly. "But, uh… _anyway!_ You said your coat used to belong to Courier Six? Have you, uh... known him, for a while?"

The way she worded the question made it sound like she was grasping at straws for conversation topics; a feeling Taylor could sympathize with.

"...Sort of?" She finally replied, choosing her words carefully. Taylor didn't want to give away her secret identity by accident, after all. _"He…_ He saved my life, a while back. When I ran into him a few days ago, he offered to team up; I guess I feel like I owe him, and it seemed safer than fighting alone."

Clockblocker nodded, humming in agreement.

"Well, I think you're definitely right about it being safer. I don't know myself, but Vista could probably quote you the exact statistics."

The green-clad Ward groaned, rolling her eyes audibly.

"Only because we're supposed to memorize that sort of information." She turned back to Taylor. "But I'm guessing you're probably not interested in joining the Wards anyway, if you've got a team of your own."

"I _did_ think about joining the Wards, but _I…_ don't really think I'd enjoy it much." Taylor admitted. "Uh, _not that you guys aren't cool or anything..._ "She quickly added.

Vista chuckled.

"No, I get it. The rules _can_ get kind of tiring after a while. It kind of sucks to just stand around when you know you could be doing than just being a glorified walking photoshoot."

She shrugged.

"I mean, I know we're doing good, but it just feels like we could be doing more, you know?" Vista shook her head. "Anyway, I probably shouldn't be talking about the Wards like that."

Clockblocker snorted.

"Yeah, despite Vista's frankly _astounding_ pitch for the Wards, it seems we haven't convinced you yet. But if you ever change your mind, we're always open to applications."

Taylor couldn't help smiling a bit, suppressing a laugh of her own.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

The three of them were silent for a moment, before Vista spoke up again.

"So… How did all this happen, anyway? This isn't remotely Empire territory, and I can't really imagine why so many of their capes would get together like this outside of a rally..."

"They were trying to ambush Six, I think." Taylor answered. "This is his house; the only reason we caught them was because I was looking inside from down the street."

"You can do that with bug control?" Vista's tone was surprised… And maybe a little impressed.

Taylor nodded.

"I can see and hear everything my bugs can; it doesn't really _translate_ that well, though, so I can't really make out details. I just knew that Six wasn't inside, and the Empire's the only gang I know of in the Bay with capes that wear metal armor..." She trailed off, thinking. "Well, I guess Armsmaster technically does too, but I don't think he'd have much reason to break into Six's house."

"Yeah, Armsmaster strikes me as more of a _Grand Theft_ kinda guy," Clockblocker snickered, "I mean, where do you think he got his bike from? Squealer's still sending us angry letters."

They all shared a chuckle at that thought, before returning to business.

"So, how'd you actually beat them?" Clockblocker finally asked. "I mean, it was you and Courier Six against, what? At least three Empire capes? I see Alabaster and Crusader, and it's pretty obvious Kaiser _was_ here, given, _y'know..."_

He gestured at the iron wall bisecting a solid chunk of the front yard

"It was five of them, total. Stormtiger and Cricket are still inside. They were in… _really bad shape."_

Just the memory of both their broken bodies was enough to make Taylor cringe. Cricket had probably taken things the worst; while she hadn't _lost_ any limbs, she'd been covered in burns and one of hands had looked more like _ground beef_ than anything in a human body... She really hoped Six actually did know what he was doing.

"Five capes?" Vista's tone was incredulous, bordering on awestruck, "Even for the best heroes, two-versus-five is really bad odds. How'd you do it?"

"It was mostly Six," Taylor admitted quietly, "I just distracted them for a few seconds with my swarm. They were too busy trying to get the bugs off to notice the grenades Six dropped at their feet."

For a moment, nobody spoke. The entire yard was silent save for the sounds of PRT Troopers doing their job, and the ticking over of the engine of the van the Wards had taken shelter behind.

"Shit." Clockblocker finally said, his voice solemn. "You pulled an Oni Lee on them. Are they... _still alive?"_

"I… I think. Stormtiger lost an arm. Cricket looked… _Bad."_ Taylor dug her fingers into her arms, trying to banish the mental image.

 _Limbs bent at wrong angles, patches of skin charred almost black. The parts of her face that weren't covered by her mask were pockmarked with gashes and cuts. She was still breathing, but it was raspy and labored._

Vista was visibly cringing.

" _That_... can't have been fun to see."

Taylor blinked.

"You're taking that better than I would've expected. Armsmaster seemed a lot angrier about… well, _all of this."_ She gestured vaguely at the yard, and the ruined house behind it.

"Well, it's definitely not ideal," Vista admitted, "But I think he's more angry because the Empire decided to attack so far into the territory that the PRT actively patrols. I'm pretty sure that's why they sent out so many troopers, on top of Armsmaster and us; this is just about everyone we could send out on such short notice."

"Yeah, the PRT'll want to make sure we look like we're taking this seriously, even if it just means standing around looking official like this," Clockblocker agreed, "That the Empire even tried something like this is _really_ bad; that they had all either run off or got taken out before any of us even got here won't help matters. And… _just between us,"_ The Ward leaned in, one hand covering where his mouth would be and lowering his voice to a whisper, _"I don't think any sane person would blame you for what you and Six did, but one of the first things you learn in the Wards is that there'll always be critics. Eventually, you just have to learn to tune them out."_

Vista made an unhappy, noncommittal sound, her mouth contorted in a frown.

" _Clockblocker's… not entirely wrong,_ but there are laws for a reason." She admitted, though her words came out stilted, as though she didn't entirely believe what she was saying. "Six is obviously skilled with his guns, but lethal force on _anyone_ without a kill-order is murky no matter how you frame it, especially if there are innocent people nearby."

"Well, Six wasn't trying to _kill_ anyone..." Taylor protested, even as the excuse rang hollow. He hadn't been trying to kill them, but he hadn't gone out of his way to prevent it, either. Hell, he'd said so explicitly.

Could she have convinced him to go for a different plan? One that didn't risk lives as much as they had? Even if they were villains, Taylor didn't want more people killed; she especially didn't want their blood on her hands, no matter how much they deserved it.

" _Nyyeeh,_ well, obviously that can't be helped sometimes," Clockblocker agreed, "Innocent people get tangled up in the middle of cape fights all the time, and the last thing the Protectorate wants is more people getting hurt because of collateral damage..." He shrugged. "I don't think either of us could really say whether you did the _'right'_ thing, at least not from personal experience, but I _do_ think it could've gone a lot worse than it did, _so..."_

He shrugged again, making an ambivalent grunt.

Thankfully, the conversation took a lighter turn from there, and Taylor chatted with the Wards for another few minutes, until Glory Girl returned with Panacea in tow. The three of them watched as the pair descended to the ground; and Taylor could only raise one eyebrow curiously as Panacea wriggled out of her sister's grip, letting herself fall the two or three feet to the ground even as Glory Girl let out a concerned shout. The two of them bickered for a moment, speaking too quietly for Taylor to hear, but whatever Glory Girl said didn't seem to satisfy Panacea, the healer scowling and turning away with a huff. As she stopped to crouch over Crusader, one hand pressed to a patch of exposed skin on his wrist, Glory Girl simply watched for a long moment. Taylor could practically _feel_ the conflicting emotions radiating off the girl, leaving a vague, churning anxiety in her gut.

Beside her, Clockblocker cleared his throat.

"Uh, hey, Gee-Gee?"

Glory Girl whipped around to face him; he made a twisting motion with his hand, and almost like magic, Taylor felt her anxiety dissipate.

 _Right. Almost forgot about her aura._

"Sorry..." The heroine murmured, floating over to their group as she rubbed one cheek. "You know how my aura gets sometimes."

Neither of the Wards said anything to support or deny her claim.

"...Maybe it's not my place to ask," Clockblocker said after a moment, "But what the heck was all _that_ about?"

" _It's…"_ She started, her tone annoyed, before catching herself. She let out a breath, and Taylor noticed the way she visibly sagged, just looking _defeated;_ like her own father on his worst days. "…I don't know. She's been like that for a while now, ever since she got caught up in that bank robbery. I don't know what _that bitch,"_ she spat the word, "did to her, but it's like she doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. I thought she _liked_ going flying with me but, _well, you saw what happened._ If I didn't know better I'd say she hates me."

" _Who_ did _what?"_ Unpleasant comparisons had already begun forming in Taylor's mind within moments. Sure, the chances that Glory Girl could be talking about _Sophia Hess_ were so ridiculously small that she dismissed the thought almost the moment it formed, but aura or not, Taylor couldn't help feeling some sympathy for the girl.

" _Tattletale."_ Glory Girl growled, glaring at Taylor. "I don't know what she did; I just saw Amy unconscious, and the way Tattletale said it, I was scared she was _hurt, and_... Well, I was more concerned with making sure Amy was alright than catching her after that."

" _Oh."_

 _Well, it definitely wasn't Sophia, then. Not unless she happened to have a Changer power._

"Who are you, anyway?" Glory Girl continued, eyes still narrowed. "You were with Courier Six earlier, but I've never seen you around before."

"She's a hero." Vista assured, bending space to jump between both of them and holding up her arms as if to pre-empt a fight. "Her name's Cazador."

Pausing, Glory Girl raised an eyebrow, giving Taylor a less-than-believing once-over. Already, Taylor could feel her earlier sympathy starting to dry up.

" _...Don't look like much of one."_ She murmured, almost out of earshot, before sighing. "Well, if they say you're alright, then I'll trust them. _Sorry."_

The apology was _less-than-heartfelt_ , but Taylor didn't want to press the issue.

"It's… fine."

They all fell quiet, awkwardly staring at each other. The somber mood wasn't particularly conducive to light conversation. From inside the house, Taylor could hear voices being raised. Trying to listen in with her swarm was… still useless, but she could see the three capes making their way to the door.

" _...ll I'm saying is I don't see the problem. I did exactly what you guys said!"_

Six stepped out first, walking backwards while carrying on his conversation. Armsmaster followed him out, visibly frowning.

"Leaving one person dismembered, and the other comatose for _who-knows-how-long_ is _**not**_ an acceptable level of force!" He growled.

" _Well fine then,"_ Six pouted, _"Next time I won't even bother, if this is the response I get for_ _ **defending**_ _myself. In my_ _ **own home.**_ _"_

Armsmaster let out an annoyed groan, pinching the bridge of his nose.

" _Frankly, Six,_ I don't give a damn about what happens to the Empire 88's thugs." He said flatly as the both of them came to a stop beside a PRT van. "I have a duty, however, to uphold the law, no matter how much I might wish to see the gangs' power broken."

Six hummed appreciatively, standing arms-crossed in the van's shadow.

"Eh, I can admire that. Doesn't mean I don't still think some of those laws are _fucking stupid_ though."

He shrugged.

"It's not like I'm a fucking child or anything; I know the laws exist for a reason, but I also know that when you let the red tape pile up, shit slips through."

The two heroes stood face to face for a moment; locked in a silent battle of will.

"But, y'know, _agree to disagree."_ Six shrugged. "I'm just speaking from experience here."

Armsmaster held his gaze for another moment, but eventually looked away, muttering to himself.

" _Be that as it may,_ that's irrelevant to the situation at the moment. I'll need you to give your official account of events, preferably as soon as possible. If possible, I'd also like to take a few samples of your Stimpacks for further analysis."

"I thought the Followers girl said they were safe." Six tilted his head. "Aside from the whole _'gives you 'Ultra-Cancer'_ thing, I mean."

" _It's not Cancer,"_ Panacea interrupted, shuffling out the front door. "Even if it is sort of similar, you obviously know at least a thing or two about medicine, Six; enough to know the differences, at least. Whatever those Stimpacks do, It's some sort of completely benign, widespread, self-regulating... _rapid cell division_. Cancer doesn't just _kill itself off_ through _genetic damage_ like that."

"I'm pretty sure it's cancer. You even said it yourself," Six voice went high-pitched and nasally, in a crude approximation of a teenage girl, _"You don't want to use too many of those at once, it'd probably cause you to develop tumors."_

Panacea rolled her eyes, sighing exasperatedly.

" _Fine, whatever. Yeah, it's basically cancer. Call it what you want."_

Clearing his throat, Armsmaster cut back in.

"...As I was saying, that's only proof that they don't pose immediate danger. They may have latent effects that would pose a long-term health risk. I'd like to subject them to more rigorous testing than the say-so of two people."

Six let out a tired groan.

" _Jeeez, you'd think-..."_

He stopped, cut off by a generic ring-tone. Taylor looked around for the source; Glory Girl, Panacea, and the Wards had all gone for whatever pockets they might have, and she even saw one or two troopers surreptitiously patting the pockets on their armored vests. Six, though, pulled out a simple, cheap looking flip phone.

"Ah, sorry about this…" He grunted, sounding a bit sheepish. Flipping it open, he brought the device to his ear. _"Hello?"_

Almost instantly, he jerked his head away as noise blasted out of the speaker, loud enough that Taylor could almost hear it from where she stood a few feet away, even without her swarm.

" _Fuckin' shit, sounds like you're in a warzone. You alright?"_

The quality of sound on the phone was as terrible as one might expect from such a cheap phone, but Taylor could make out a masculine voice shouting on the other end, obviously panicked.

" _What're- What!? By who?"_

More panicked shouting.

" _Alright, fine- Yeah, I'll be there ASAP. Don't die."_

With that, Six flipped the phone close, calmly slipping it back into a pocket in his coat even as a low growl built at the back of his throat. Then, like a predator suddenly springing into action, he let out a furious roar, driving his fist into the side of the van.

" _Mother-Fucking-Piece-of-Shit-Sonofa-Goddamn-_ _ **BITCH!"**_

His ranting descended into wordless screeching for all of a moment, Six reaching out before him as if trying to strangle the air before cutting off entirely.

Like that, he was calm once more, though breathing a bit more heavily.

" _Well, it seems we have a problem, Armsmaster,"_ He growled, _"because I've got a gun full of bullets, a heart full of fury, and my day's just gone from_ _ **bad to worse. Now you can get out of my way, or you can get in line, 'cuz there's no way things aren't gonna end in blood today."**_

* * *

 **Y'know, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought it was called "Winter** _ **Break**_ **", not "Winter** _ **Work Even Harder During the Holiday Rush**_ **". But, here we are. Needless to say, I was tired, busy, and the more I didn't work on this, the guiltier I felt about it, which only killed my motivation further.**

 **The vicious cycle, eh?**

 **Anyway, maybe you guys saw this coming, or at least the events it foreshadows, but hey, better to be well written and predictable than unpredictable at the cost of actually making fucking sense. I can't say I enjoyed writing this chapter, but it felt important to at least point out the Local PRT, Protectorate, and Public's stance on Six. Basically, a lot of people like that Six gets results, but the people in the system who, if not agreeing with Six, at least don't disagree with him, and they obviously can't show overt support for someone who so willingly flaunts their rules (Like Clockblocker). Others, meanwhile, are torn between** _ **'What Six did was technically right'**_ **and** _ **'What Six did is technically illegal'**_ **, and depending on who you are, it might be difficult to reconcile those two ideas. I dunno, it felt a little ham-handed, personally, and I don't know how accurate Vista and Clock actually ended up coming out, but it's done and I don't want to dwell much more on it.**

 **I also want to make mention of adaptational changes I've made to make Fallout more internally consistent, as well as to gel better with a more 'realistic' story like Worm; stuff like Power Armor and certain game mechanics like carry weight (Six's magical coat of holding. It has an inherent Stranger effect imbued into it to make people not question it's abilities. This is canon.) so I'll probably make mention of those things as they become relevant in story.**

 **In this chapter, for instance, it was Stimpaks. Obviously, the easy way out would be to say that they just aren't that effective, or that it's Pre-War science bullshit, but Stimpaks healing you by giving you** _ **cancer**_ **to induce rapid cellular regeneration and then** _ **curing**_ **your cancer once you were healed just felt magnificently in-character for Fallout while also giving an explanation for the rapid healing.**

 **So I ran with it, even if I could've explained it a bit better. Ah well, it's pseudo-science bullshit either way. I don't study biology, so concoct your own explanation if you want.**

 **Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long, but I make no promises.**


	26. Chapter 21

Colin blinked, staring at Six. The Wastelander had already unholstered his rifle, the medicine wheel symbol sewn into its cheek-rest glinting in the sunlight. Colin didn't doubt that Six was both able and willing to make good on his threats, but he couldn't allow Six to go gallivanting off _again._ He held up a hand to stop Six, only to have it batted away.

" _I don't think you heard me."_ Six growled. _"Move._ _ **Or get moved."**_

Out of the corner of his eye, Colin could see both Glory Girl and Cazador tensing for a fight; even the Wards looked on edge. He needed to defuse the situation, _fast._

" _Courier Six, stand down!"_ He commanded, grabbing the man's shoulder to physically _hold_ him in place. "I may be able to call in Protectorate support to help you, but only if you stay within the bounds of the law. Even with the state you left Cricket and Stormtiger in, what you've done here could still be justified as self-defense. All of that goes out the window if you go looking for trouble, though; especially if it ends with more people dead."

Six shrugged, shaking Colin's hand off with a surprising amount of force.

" _You're assuming I'm_ _ **that**_ _concerned about the law."_ Six and Colin stared each other down as their standoff dragged on, each one practically daring the other to make the first move.

Even Colin had to admit Six had a certain _presence_ ; one that inspired awe. Nothing so powerful as a Master effect _;_ it was almost imperceptible compared to the likes of even Glory Girl's aura, but far from unnoticeable. Six had the conviction, the _certainty of action_ that one typically only saw in veteran, seasoned heroes; people like the Triumvirate, or the Guild's senior members, and that he often worked to instill in his own public image. He was familiar with the psychology behind it; people were naturally inclined to follow others who acted authoritatively, regardless of any actual power, but it was still novel to be on the receiving end like this. Colin wasn't some young recruit or panicked civilian, though; he was one of _the_ archetypal heroes. Perhaps not on the level of Dragon or Hero, but among the best and greatest, regardless. He'd fought _Endbringers_ , for god's sake; he wasn't about to be cowed by a scruffy gunslinger in weathered combat armor.

"Do you really want to make an enemy of the PRT, Courier Six?"

Six was stock-still, holding the standoff for another long moment. Finally, he let his shoulders fall with a put-upon sigh.

" _Fine._ If you're going to press this, then I won't say no to some backup, but if it comes down to _them_ or _me and mine_ , then I won't hesitate."

His voice was terse. Clearly, Courier Six was out of his element once laws and regulations came into play.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, _if_ it comes to that," Colin agreed, "In the best possible scenario, we can resolve this without violence, but I'm not stupid enough to assume that's the likely outcome; at the very least, I want to know what we could be running into and plan for it. Who's in trouble, where, and with who?"

"It's those _Uber_ and _Leet_ guys I got working on my way home, you know where they hang out," Six grumbled. "Couldn't hear much, what with the fucking _Great War_ going on in the background, but I think I heard him say they were were being attacked by a Bee? Or _Lee…?_ Something with an -ee."

"Oni Lee?" Colin growled, mentally cursing. "It's possible this could be a play by the ABB.

They've been fairly quiet since Lung's capture; almost _too_ quiet, if you'll forgive the cliche." With a blink, Colin brought up an overlay of the approximate borders of each gang's territory on his helmet's HUD. "Uber and Leet's base isn't far from the borders of the ABB's territory, and we've been expecting them to make _some_ kind of move sooner or later. Seems to be the likely answer."

" _...Lung,"_ Six trailed off thoughtfully,"That guy that wouldn't fucking stay down? You think these guys're out for revenge? Those two _are_ working for me, after all."

Colin shook his head.

"I doubt it; the timing doesn't fit that. Maybe if this were just a skirmish with the ABB's thugs, then I'd buy that this is all just an opportunistic attack by an offshoot group; if _Oni Lee_ is providing them with back up, though, then that suggests a previously thought out attack, possibly part of a larger plan at play. By the sound of it, they knew they were attacking a Tinker's base, and clearly planned for it if they're giving Uber and Leet a run for their money... This might be the opening shots of a power play by the ABB."

Six cocked his head, silent for a moment.

" _...Aaand_ that's a good thing?"

"Could be. Or it could be very bad; too early to tell," Colin grunted, "If we can nip it in the bud, capture Oni Lee and put him away alongside Lung, then it could very well mean the beginning of the end for the ABB as a cohesive force."

That alone was a tempting reward. Brockton Bay had been a cesspit for almost as long as parahuman gangs had existed; toppling one of the 'Big Three' would be a massive coup, both for the PRT ENE as a whole, and for the career of anyone who had a hand in the success.

"If things grow out of control, though," Colin continued, "Then a lot of innocents could end up in the crossfire."

"Sounds like we haven't got the time to fuck around, then," Six said simply, "Let's beat feet."

Colin nodded in agreement.

"The docks are far out of range of standard patrol routes; I don't expect we'll be receiving much assistance, but I'll arrange whatever support I can en route. In the meantime-" He turned to face the assembled PRT and Parahumans that had been listening in with varying degrees of subtlety. "-Team One, Clockblocker, Vista; stand guard out here. Team Two can take care of securing Stormtiger and Cricket; Panacea's given the all clear to move them. Stand guard until the medical transport arrives, in case the Empire returns to liberate any prisoners. Cazador?"

The girl went stiff at the address, turning to face him more directly. He debated the pros and cons of including _yet more_ independent capes for a moment; especially teenaged ones. They didn't have the training that the Wards had, let alone the full members of the Protectorate, though they also didn't carry the price of getting the Youth Guard involved. The only reason Colin was even seriously considering it was because it would very likely be them, or nothing; it would take too long to scramble more heroes, and the PRT Troopers in their vans would be more a liability than a benefit in the tight alleys and poorly maintained streets of the Docks.

He doubted the Director would approve this sort of strike, but he had an opportunity and the prerogative in the field. He'd deal with her after all was said and done, and hopefully his actions would speak for themselves.

"Your power would work well for crowd control against any unpowered gang members in the area; you're welcome to come along. The same goes for you, Glory Girl, though neither of you should feel obligated to do so. I won't lie, this is a risky move; it's entirely possible that either of you could get injured, _or worse,_ if you come."

Cazador paused, looking over to Courier Six, who shrugged.

' _Asking for permission?'_ Colin wondered _'He does seem to act as her guardian, at least in some capacity.'_

"I mean, he's right. You've more than pulled your weight already, kid; don't push yourself if you aren't ready."

She looked back to Colin, then back to Six again, before nodding.

"If I can help, then I will."

Colin nodded, grateful.

"Good. And Glory Girl?"

The heroine had floated over to her sister, the two already locked in a hushed, though hardly quiet, discussion.

" _No! Just-"_ He heard Panacea hiss, grimacing. _"Look, I'll be fine. You go; I'll ride with the ambulances once they arrive to pick up Cricket and Stormtiger. Or I'll get Mark to give me a ride, the house is only, like, five minutes away."_

Victoria Dallon was silent for a moment, as if formulating a retort, before eventually sighing in defeat.

" _...Alright. Stay safe Ames."_

Panacea scoffed.

" _You're the one heading out to fight Oni Lee."_ She poked her sister in the arm playfully, cracking a tired smile. _"You too, Vicky. And… I'm sorry, I know I've been kind of a bitch lately-."_

" _It's fine, just… Talk to me, will you? I want to help."_

They hugged for a brief moment, and then Glory Girl zipped back over to their impromptu war council.

"Alright, I'm in; who's in trouble?"

Colin nodded appreciatively.

"Uber and Leet; I'm sure you're aware of them. It seems they've run afoul of the ABB; we'll be moving to intervene before things can escalate."

She blinked.

" _Them?_ Uber and Leet are villains, why are we _protecting_ them-?"

"Cuz' they're working for me right now." Six stopped her.

Shooting Six a quick glance, Colin nodded in agreement.

"As I'm sure you recall, Courier Six is a victim of… _unique circumstances,"_ He kept his voice low, in case anyone happened to be eavesdropping, "Unfortunately, finding a way to send him back home through legal channels could take _years_ , if not longer; time that Courier Six doesn't have, according to his own account of the local political situation."

Out of the corner of his eye, Colin noticed Cazador glancing towards Courier Six, her head tilted curiously. _Had he not told her about his circumstances? She was almost certainly a local, given her recent appearance, but they clearly had some sort of history… Begging the question of how much_ _ **she**_ _knew._

" _Long story short,"_ Courier Six interjected, "We'd _kinda_ just pushed two whole armies out of Vegas when I ended up here; I don't want them getting any funny ideas because they don't think I'll be there to rally the troops."

"...I suggested that he approach them with an offer to purchase their services," Colin continued, "The fact that they _are_ villains means that they also don't have to worry about adhering to the laws regarding travel between Earths. _That_ , and the fact that every day they spend working on Six's device is a day they can't spend planning other criminal activities means I'm willing to look the other way so long as _they_ stay under the radar."

Glory Girl turned, eyeing Six suspiciously and chewing her lip.

" _...Alright._ If you trust Six, then I'm willing to trust _you_ , at least."

"Good. Neither Courier Six nor Cazador have transportation of their own or a Mover ability; Six will be riding with me, can you carry Cazador?"

Side-eyeing the other girl for a moment, Glory Girl shrugged.

"Sure, I guess. Where, exactly, are we going?"

"The Docks. Oni Lee's likely to be on scene, so you'll hear the fighting before you see it. Keep your approach low, and I shouldn't need to say it, but _do not engage_ before Six and I arrive."

He pointed a finger at both girls, even as they nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure you both know Oni Lee's already a remorseless killer, and he's only gotten more deadly since Lung forcibly recruited the Cornell Bomber last month. I doubt she'll show up in person, her MO so far has been primarily to arm ABB foot soldiers with her bombs rather than deploy them herself, but be alert regardless; even one of those things could a standard thug into a serious threat."

"Got it." Glory Girl nodded, scooping Cazador off the ground unceremoniously and earning a surprised yelp from the girl. "They won't even know we're there. Anything else?"

Colin grumbled. It didn't sit right letting both of these girls run ahead, but even he and Courier Six together wasn't a favorable match-up against Oni Lee and an unknown number of thugs. Oni Lee was too wily to be taken down by any single opponent unless they had a counter to his power, or were simply _that_ much more powerful, as in Lung's case.

"Just one; take this." Opening a small hard case on his belt, Colin pulled out an earpiece, handing it to Glory Girl. It was small; more a precaution in case someone lost their primary comms in the field, or in cases such as this, when he had to coordinate with Non-Protectorate forces.

"This will allow you to get in contact with us if necessary. It's a bit fragile, and the range isn't more than a few blocks, but it should work, for the circumstances." He finally relented, "Just be careful."

Glory Girl nodded and, with Cazador clinging to her neck for dear life, the two of them floated into the air, and quickly zipped over the rooftops in the direction of the Docks. Colin only hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

"What, none for me?" Six murmured, watching the two disappear.

"I only have the one. Besides, I trust you to handle yourself more than I do two teenagers."

Colin allowed himself a small smirk.

"Or am I mistaken?"

" _...Fair,"_ He heard Six chuckle, "So, we've got the cavalry incoming, but by the looks of it, they're going to arrive _before_ we do. Think we should do something about that, or just sit around scratching our asses?"

Colin sighed.

"I'm aware. We'll be going momentarily, and we'll still arrive long before if you had gone on foot. Before that, though-"

Six groaned.

" _Before. We. Leave."_ Colin continued, gritting his teeth. "I need to know you won't simply attempt to kill everyone we come across. I've seen your arsenal, there _must_ be some manner of non-lethal weapon you can use."

Six let out another long, exaggerated groan.

"You're really twisting my arm here… I mean, I've got a few dozen bean bag shells for a twelve gauge; that work?"

"It's acceptable," Colin relented, "At the very least, anyone you shoot will be more likely to survive than not... Though it does bring up the question of why you weren't already using them."

"You mean, besides the fact that they're hard as hell to find? " Six casually shot back; he had already slung his lever-action over his shoulder, replacing it with a pump-action shotgun with furniture painted in a reedy yellow-green camouflage. "People just _don't fear_ bean bags. I mean, _sure,_ they hurt, but threatening to put a dent in your skull just doesn't carry the same weight as threatening to paint the walls pink with grey matter, y'know?"

As he spoke, Six began to load his weapon at a methodical, almost meditative pace; inserting a single shell and cycling the bolt before loading the rest of the tube.

"This might sound hard to believe, but I actually don't usually enjoy killing. _Beating the shit out of deserving assholes, sure,_ that's my favorite hobby; but I _kill_ 'cuz _some people_ just don't learn their lesson."

Colin felt one eyebrow rising dubiously. Tilting his head, he stole a glance at the ruined house, before looking back to Six.

"You're right." He said simply, "I _do_ find that difficult to believe."

Six blew a raspberry, and like that, whatever gravity their conversation had taken on was broken.

" _Geesh, shoot me in the fuckin' head why don't you?"_

He murmured something mocking under his breath, slinging the shotgun over his other shoulder.

"Alright, _there._ Is _'His Royal Highness'_ pleased with my attire?"

Colin grunted an affirmative.

"It's acceptable. Better to be prepared _before_ entering a combat zone."

" _I was prepared, before_ _ **somebody**_ _insisted I change tactics…"_

Colin didn't bother to rebuke Six's complaint. As an independent hero, he was allowed to use whatever methods he preferred, within the bounds of the law, but the rules for joint PRT-Independent operations were a bit more complex; they demanded that for any independent hero to coordinate with Protectorate forces, they had to comply with Protectorate rules and regulations.

Regulations that _specifically_ forbid the use of excessive and lethal force unless authorized. The _official_ reasoning was that PR would never allow Protectorate heroes to openly associate with 'violent, unsanctioned vigilantes', yet it went unspoken, but understood that rules in that vein were most often enforced as a means to put extra pressure on borderline or otherwise uncertain independents to simply join the Protectorate entirely.

Truthfully, it was a rule that was often bent as a matter of convenience; enforcing it in its entirety was near impossible, and just as good a way to chase off otherwise well-meaning heroes who simply didn't have the means and training of Government backed heroes, pushing them to avoid the PRT and Protectorate heroes altogether. Colin himself wouldn't have normally pressed the issue, but he still had his own career to consider, and his duty as a hero beyond that. Excessive force was Six's go-to tactic, and curbing that would be, if nothing else, one less thing for Piggot to yell at him for when all was said and done, as he was sure she would.

With a remote command, he activated his motorcycle's engine, the vehicle springing to life with a growl specifically chosen for both its ability to carry long distances and the instinctive avoidance reaction it incited in listeners, hiding the truth that the machine's Tinkertech motor actually made next to no sound at all. Mounting the bike, Colin glanced at Six, who simply stood silently a few feet away.

" _...Huh. You know, now that I think about it I'd like to walk, actually,"_ He called out over the growl of the engine, _"I'm sure those guys'll be fine, right?"_

Colin raised an eyebrow.

"It's at least thirty minutes to the Docks from here on foot. More, depending on how fast you can run."

Six let out a pained groan, but gave in. Singing one leg over the bike, Courier Six saddled up behind Colin, who let out an amused snort. A moment later, and he was revving up the engine, speeding off as Six frantically latched on for stability. Racing out of the tight corners of the housing development and onto the wider main roads, Colin opened a connection to Headquarters.

"Console; Armsmaster. I've received actionable intelligence that a group of ABB led by Oni Lee are currently engaging Uber and Leet in the Docks area. Moving now to intervene alongside Courier Six, Glory Girl, and Cazador, but I'm requesting whatever backup is available, over."

After a moment, a squawk of static came over the line.

"… _Console copies, Armsmaster; wait one."_

Almost unconsciously, Colin nodded in response, maneuvering his way through the evening rush-hour as he did. Thankfully, the size and state of Brockton Bay meant that even at its worst, local traffic never held a candle to that of larger cities like Boston or New York, though it could still get pretty hairy.

" _Armsmaster; Console. Director Piggot wants to speak to you directly, over."_

Colin sighed. Seemed he'd be dealing with her regardless.

"Understood. Patch her through."

The line clicked, silent for a moment, before the Director's voice filtered through.

" _Armsmaster."_ Piggot spoke quietly, her voice calm and measured, but her tone carried a terseness that betrayed her true anger. _"Would you care to explain exactly what you think you're doing, and_ _ **why,**_ _precisely, you felt it necessary to circumvent the chain of command?"_

"I made a judgement call, Director." Colin retorted, "Courier Six received a call from Uber and Leet requesting his help, and indicated his willingness to escalate to violence if we tried to stop him. Rather than risk endangering the Wards, PRT Personnel, and any civilians present, I offered assistance to Courier Six, so long as he could keep his actions within Protectorate regulations." He paused, swerving to thread the bike between two lanes of cars. "Oni Less is likely on scene; if this really is the ABB reaction we've been expecting since Lung's capture, then we could break the gang's power here and now, which is an opportunity that I felt justified immediate action."

" _If only things were that easy. Were you at least able to take a statement regarding the initial incident? I can only assume, somehow, that you convinced him to change tactics."_

"I was able to take an initial statement, yes; it corroborated with our current intelligence well enough that I believe it was truthful. It appears that the property does indeed belong to Courier Six, who was ambushed by several Empire Eighty-Eight capes; however, he was able to detect them and formulate a counter-attack." Colin swerved around a particularly thickly packed stretch of the street, jumping the curb for a brief moment. "I was also able to convince him to switch from lethal ammunition to a shotgun loaded with less-lethal bean bags, not unlike the kind used by Miss Militia; given Courier Six's attitude, as well as his verbal complaints up to that point, I felt that pushing the matter any further would have been unproductive, at best."

Piggot was silent for a moment, eventually letting out a quiet sigh.

" _Fantastic."_ She grunted, her tone suggesting it was anything but. _"That means I won't have to answer as many questions about why I haven't had Courier Six_ _ **arrested**_ _yet, on top of all the questions I'll be fielding regarding how the Empire_ _managed to launch an attack so far outside of their territory,_ _ **not to mention,**_ _the questions about why PRT forces didn't arrive until after the fight was over. You do recall who's expected to clean up the aftermath of all this, don't you Armsmaster?"_

Were he not hurtling down the streets at twice the posted limit, Colin would have closed his eyes in focus as he formulated a reply.

"...I understand, Director. I'll take full accountability for whatever happens."

" _As if I won't have to answer some pointed questions regardless,"_ Piggot grumbled, _"Even then, that doesn't explain why you felt it was acceptable to enlist two minors in your 'strike team'."_

"They offered to assist." It was technically a lie, but a small one. "And I was unsure what, if any, support the Protectorate would be able to provide. I felt that Cazador and Glory Girl, given their power and experience respectively, would be able to act as a diversionary force; dealing with any unpowered fighters while Courier Six and I neutralized Oni Lee."

" _And if either of them gets hurt? Or killed?"_

"I informed them both of the risks beforehand. They knew what they were getting into."

" _They're fucking children!"_ She roared. _"You can take all the accountability you want, but that won't stop the complete fucking Shit-Hurricane this entire branch is going to be facing if either of them ends up dead."_

She let out an audible sigh over the line.

"Director, I-"

" _Save it. We_ _ **will**_ _be discussing this later. Miss Militia and Velocity are mobilizing towards your position, they should be about twenty minutes out. Can you hold your attack until then?"_

"I'll try." Colin admitted, flying through an intersection as he did and ignoring Six's howling behind him. "Courier Six may not be willing to wait that long, though."

" _Of course not…"_ Piggot growled. _"Fine. Do what you have to, but make sure you get those kids out alive and in one piece. If you can't, then I doubt either of us will survive the PR fallout."_

"Understood. Armsmaster out."

Colin closed the radio channel, letting out a breath. That had gone… Well, he wasn't sure if he could say whether it had gone better or worse than expected. Likely, the Director was still devising some punishment she felt was suited for Colin's 'mistakes'; only time would tell how bad it actually turned out to be.

Gunning the motor, he hunched forward onto the motorcycle. Behind him, he could feel Six holding tight to anything he could wrap his limbs around; primarily Colin himself. Every time they passed particularly close to a car or some other obstacle on the sidewalk, Six would let out a fearful yelp, flinching away. Colin allowed himself some small measure of satisfaction at passing close to as many obstacles as he could without putting them at excessive risk. It was petty, yes, but it was nonetheless satisfying revenge for the day's headaches he had caused, or at least had a hand in.

As they passed into the Docks proper, Colin shut off the the cycle's artificial motor sound, allowing the two of them to approach in near silence. Maneuvering around potholes, abandoned wrecks, and down alleys, Colin stopped just a block from Uber and Leet's hideout, parking the bike in an alley that opened up right next to their hideout. He and Courier Six both dismounted, though he did so with significantly more grace than Six, who collapsed to his knees, panting and practically worshipping the ground.

" _Haah… Ho-holy fucking shit… Jesus… Fuckin' christ…"_

"We're here," Colin said simply, "Are you still well enough for a fight?"

Slowly, Six pulled himself to a kneeling position.

"I'm-" He gulped, waving Colin off, "-Yeah, yeah… Just… give me a minute, will you?"

Still panting, he began to reach into his coat, murmuring quietly.

" _...Fffucking hell, if God had intended for people to move that quickly, he'd have given us fuckin' wings."_

Shrugging, Colin turned. The longer Six spent getting his bearings back, the better. Clearing his throat, he opened a new connection to the miniature radio he had given to the girls earlier.

"Glory Girl, Cazador, report in. Do you read?"

The line was quiet for a few long moments. Long enough that Colin felt a knot of fear forming in his gut, before the line squealed to life.

" _...Is that-? Yeah? It's working? Good."_ Glory Girl's voice crackled through, another, fainter voice, likely Cazador's coming across as little more than a murmur in the background. _"We hear you, Armsmaster; just had to figure out how to work this thing. We're ready when you are."_

Colin nodded, relieved.

"Good. Stay out of sight for now. Can you give any counts on numbers for the ABB?"

" _I think- Yeah, Cazador says about two dozen thugs outside, really just standing around outside one of the buildings, not doing much."_

"Armed?" Colin interrupted.

" _...A few, looks like. Pistols, a couple of them guarding the door have rifles… I think that's where Uber and Leet are. Oni Lee's here too, he's been patrolling around that building, it looks like. Keeps jumping from roof to roof,"_ Glory Girl trailed off, continuing a moment later. _"We're staying out of sight like you said in one of the warehouses; found a window with a pretty good view of all the ABB guys. Cazador says there's a few more thugs inside, but it's hard to tell exactly. They're guarding a couple bodies… Are they dead-?"_

Mentally, Colin cursed the quality of the earpieces as the audio began to fizz out. They weren't Tinkertech, and so their small size also meant that they couldn't transmit far, or very well at all.

" _Oh, no. She says they're still breathing; just unconscious. That's probably Uber and Leet."_

With a small sigh of relief, Colin nodded. He didn't want to know the extent of what Courier Six would do, _or try to do,_ in the event his ticket home ended up dead.

"Good. Courier Six and I are just a couple blocks out; when we attack, we'll focus on fighting Lee. I want you and Cazador to focus on disabling the thugs. I'll give you the signal when we're in position."

" _Got it. Cazador says she's got bugs on just about everyone outside; just give the word, and she'll have them all bite at once. Actually, is that going to be enough? They're just bugs, right? Seems kinda weak. Are they-... Oh."_

Glory Girl's voice took on a hushed, almost _awed_ tone.

" _ **Oh.**_ _Oh wow. Also, eugh."_

The line cut off as the girls began to chat quietly. Taking the brief chance to check Six's status, Colin had to double take at the sight of Six sucking something out of a rubber tube poking out of a bottle like a straw, a lighter held up to a tin foil heating element of some sort.

"What is that?"

"What's what?"

"In your mouth."

"Just a little something to steady my hands, don't worry."

Six's tone was obviously intended to be reassuring, though for Colin it was anything but. Releasing the tube with a satisfied sigh, Six tossed the bottle to the side. Reaching back into his coat, he pulled out… _an entire handful_ of inhalers, injectors, bottles, tins, and more that he could only assume were drugs of all sorts.

"You aren't seriously planning to take all of that at once, are you?"

"What do you mean?" Six asked innocently, rolling a sleeve back and stabbing a small syringe directly into a vein on his inner arm, just below the elbow.

"That's… There's no way that's safe. I _know_ _you know_ that's not safe. And why now?"

"Nah, nah, look; there's a science to this kind of thing, y'know? I know what I'm doing."

Holding up a brown plastic bottle, Six shook it curiously. By the sound, it was maybe half full. Shrugging, he twisted the cap off, downing... _the entire bottle…_

"Everyone knows that chems are more effective when you take a bunch at once." Six mumbled through the sound of crunching pills. "As for why now? Well, we're going to be facing _who knows how many_ guys at once, who _we can't kill,_ and I _don't know shit_ about how we might stack the odds in our favor here. All this is just a bit of insurance; _No guts, no glory_ an' all that, y'know?"

Chuckling, Six went back dosing himself with likely _lethal_ amounts of drugs.

Colin could only boggle at the sight. Eventually, rolling his eyes, he pushed it out of his mind, keying the radio again.

"Glory Girl, are you still there?"

" _Yeah, still here. Are we good to go?"_

"No. Not for a while, actually; I didn't have a chance to mention it, but Velocity and Miss Militia are incoming to support. Once they arrive, _then_ we'll attack."

Behind him, Colin heard Six rising to his feet, his back sliding against the wall as a few used syringes and bottles fell out of his lap.

" _Really? Alright then, guess I can't complain about that…"_ Cazador'sIndistinct murmuring cut off Glory Girl's musing. _"What? What do you mean 'Weird'? Weird how?"_

Audibly cracking his knuckles, Six let out a low laugh. Colin didn't bother to check on him; Six was an adult. He could take care of himself for a few minutes, at least.

Colin almost found himself hoping that whatever it was that Six had dosed himself with would last until _after_ Velocity and Miss Militia could arrive and clean things up, save for the prospect of fighting Oni Lee with one less pair of (admittedly effective) hands.

"What's the issue? Is there something we should be concerned about?"

Six shuffled about, chuckling to himself as Colin listened in intently.

" _...Maybe? Cazador says one of the thugs guarding Uber and Leet looks… different. It's… I dunno… Do you think they're just wearing some kind of body armor? Maybe one of their lieutenants?"_

Colin found his attention distracted from the girls by the distinct _click-click_ of a shotgun being pumped, followed by a wild, near-giggle of a laugh.

" _ **HELLO BOYS! WHO'S READY TO MEET THEIR MAKER?"**_

He turned. At the end of the alley, Six stood; shotgun at the ready. Colin sprang forward, gut twisting into knots as the weapon _boomed_ its twelve-gauge warcry.

"Wait, Six-!"

Racing to Six's side, Colin grabbed the man's shoulder, pulling him back into relative safety deeper into the alley, only to find Six's focus entirely on him. In the background, he could hear shouts; snippets of asian languages and other cries of surprise.

" _ **Death waits for no man."**_ He said simply. _ **"Neither do I."**_

With a sudden heave of effort, Six yanked himself free, sprinting out of the alley to face the entire mob of ABB thugs and laughing all the way.

"Shit!" Colin cursed, keying the radio once more. "They know we're here, now. _GO!"_

* * *

 _ **Christ, this seems to be a recurring theme with my writing. I always end up underestimating how much I can fit into a chapter, and it always ends up like this.**_

 _ **It seems like, 'Yeah, totally bro, I'll fit everything into this one chapter, fight and all.' always turns into 'Well, wait, I can't just skim over these parts; gotta explain everything else, set up the next chapters, explain what people are doing offscreen,' and WHOOPS IT'S 5K WORDS!**_

 _ **I blame myself.**_

 _ **So, here you go. Six is high as fuck, there's gonna be a fight. Then probably another fight. Maybe a few more fights; who knows? (I do, but I ain't tellin'!)**_


End file.
